The Trouble With Angels
by K.C.Dragonfly
Summary: What if our girls ended up on the other side of the law? AU fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello :) New story for you all. **  
**I'm trying something new with this one. It's the first time I've written in first person, and it's also the first time I've alternated POV, so I hope it turns out alright. Let me know what you think. **

**It's an AU fic but I'll try to keep as much of the characters' backstory and mannerisms as accurate as I can. I will also make the setting as real as possible to the location and time frame; however as I have never been in a 1980s Women's prison, I can make no promises here. **

**On that note, I hope you enjoy :) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters etc etc**

**x x x x**

I flinch at the harsh crunch as the metal doors seal me into my latest cage. The guard mutters something that I don't even pretend to hear over the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I stare pitifully at the bars for a few seconds before turning in a slow circle to survey my new surroundings. Everything I have ever heard about jail is true.

Cold. Dark. Blank. Empty.

Or perhaps not so empty after-all.

As my eyes adjust to the dimness, they settle on the metal bunk-beds against the left hand wall. To my utmost surprise, there is a woman staring back at me, her head cocked to the side curiously.

As I regain a sense of composure after the shock I begin to fidget under her intense gaze, not quite sure where to put myself in the small space. Not wanting to spark any fights on my first day, I move to lean against the opposite wall, as far away from her as the tiny room will allow.

The woman continues to stare for a few minutes longer before seemingly getting bored with the new attraction and returning to the book she is reading.

I use this opportunity to observe her from my safe spot.

She is slightly older than myself, in her mid-to-late twenties perhaps. She has reddish-blonde hair which she subconsciously twirls through her fingers. Her blue eyes, though piercing, are more inquisitive than cold and on the whole she seems relatively unthreatening.

"You planning on staying there all day?"

The voice startles me back to reality and I blink at her in surprise.

"What?"

Smooth.

The blonde offers a mysterious sort of smile, putting her book aside and leaning closer. "You got a name?"

"Maybe." I shift uncomfortably, not entirely sure that I am calm enough to engage this woman in conversation just yet

She laughs, shaking her hair out.

"Cagey." She comments. "I'll soon break that."

Unsure of whether I am supposed to be scared by that veiled threat, I opt to remain silent.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

I jump, startled by the unexpected intrusion to my concentration, as the door to my cell is thrown open and a scared young girl is flung inside.

"Congratulations, a room with a view." The guard mutters sarcastically, slamming the door shut behind him. The girl flinches at the noise, before scanning her new home apprehensively.

Putting my book to one side, I sit forward on the bottom bunk and analyse her movements carefully. It has been a long time since I have had a roommate. I think.  
To be honest, time means very little in here.

"Hey." I say at last, although the girl appears not to hear me. Not wanting to freak her out further, I wait until she spots me in her own time. For a moment we just stare at each other before she moves to the far wall and drops her gaze to the hard stone floor.

I scrutinise her with intrigue. She barely looks old enough to even be in an adult prison. It is obvious from her demeanour that this is her first time in a place like this; the latest victim of California's iron-fist approach to the growing crime rates. That or she'd drawn a really hard-ass judge. I can't help but feel pity for the kid.

When it is clear I am not going to get anything out of her just yet I resume reading my book, giving her a few minutes to acclimatise.

It isn't long before I begin to sense that I am being watched and peer over the top of my book at her.

"You planning on staying there all day?" I ask at last. She jumps, blinking at me with startled brown eyes.

"What?"

I smile, discarding my book altogether and moving to the edge of the mattress. Upon closer inspection her eyes are hazel, not brown and they continued to appraise me with suspicion.

"You got a name?"

"Maybe."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles out of me at her evasive answer. Apparently this girl has more sass than first glance would suggest.

"Cagey." I comment. "I'll soon break that."

At the scared look I receive, I realise how that must have sounded and soften my voice a little.

"Really not talking, huh?" I continue rhetorically. "Alright, well let me know when you find your tongue." I roll onto my back, folding my arms under my head and staring at the underside of the top bunk. "I'm not going anywhere."

I neglect to add that neither is she. If she isn't already well aware of that, she soon will be.


	2. Chapter 2

**I should mention that this story is going to have some very dark themes so look away if you have a weak stomach**

**x x x x**

**Cath's POV  
**

It is a whole hour before the mysterious young brunette finally moves away from the wall and creeps into the middle of the room.

Still, she gives me a wide birth before shuffling over to the sink and splashing cold water on her face in a vain attempt to calm her nerves.

"That won't help any." I call out idly, swinging my legs off the bed and stretching my stiff back until it emits a satisfying crack.

The girl flashes me a wounded look before slinking back over to her wall.

Resigning myself to a night of stubborn silence; I haul myself up onto the top bunk, leaving the lower bed for her. It is going to be hard getting used to sharing with someone again after having been on my own for so long.

It isn't late yet and there are still a few people milling around out of their cells. Making the most of the final hour before lockdown. I personally tend to stay in here unless told otherwise. It's safer in here.

After several tentative minutes of contemplation, the girl finally sits down on the bottom bunk, where she shuffles back against the wall and tucks her knees up to her chest protectively.

I can't see her, but I can hear her slow, deep breaths – another futile attempt to calm down. I can't blame her for being scared. My first night in here was the worst night of my life.  
You never forget your first night in hell.

And if the young girl shaking below me thinks getting locked up in here is the worst thing that will happen to her tonight, she is sorely mistaken.

A noise draws my attention to the hallway and my heart twists as my worst fears are confirmed. Harper is grinning manically into our cell, her eyes alight with glee at the prospect of what is to come tonight. She glances up, spotting me watching her and her grin spreads.

This is what I was worried about.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. Finally, Harper sends me a knowing wink and disappears into the shadows. Although not for long, no doubt.

I swallow, closing my eyes against the tears threatening to fall. Ordinarily, I would have nothing to do with this – I would close my eyes and turn my back and pretend I couldn't hear a thing.

But the trembling young girl beneath me is different to most of the cretins who end up in here. She's just a frightened kid who's fallen off the tracks somewhere; how can I stand back and watch while they destroy her like they destroyed me?

Without warning I jump off the top bunk and land heavily in front of her. Despite her attempts to put as much distance between us as possible, I sit down close to the girl. Close enough to practically smell the fear emanating from her.

I fix her with a stern look, refusing to allow her to avert her eyes.

"Okay, here's the deal." I begin, licking my lips slowly in thought. "I need you to do one thing for me tonight. After that, I'll never touch you again."

"What do you mean?" The panic in her voice made my heart clench – merely a taste of what was to come, I'm sure – but I know I'm doing the right thing.

"No questions. Just do as I say." I insist bluntly.

She shifts in her spot, eyeing me uncertainly in an attempt to gauge how serious I am.

"What do I need to do?" She asks at last, somewhat reluctantly.

"Lay still and don't scream."

X x x

Neither of us has said anything since. She is probably too terrified to form coherent words. Just as well, I muse to myself; I am lost in my own thoughts, anyway.

And suddenly, it is time.

I know before I see them. Know by the pattering of feet on the hard floor, by the hushed whispers echoing off the cold walls. But most of all I know by that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

They are coming for her.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I jump, startled out of my reverie as the metal cage doors groan open and a large shadow engulfs the room. For a moment I assume it must be a guard and that this is some nightly routine, but that idea quickly fades.

Two bright eyes shine out of the darkness like headlights. A booted foot steps into the cell, followed by another.

"Hey Sunshine." A hoarse voice croons. I instinctively back myself into the corner of the bed, curling against the cold stone wall. My cellmate's words flash back to my mind and I feel my blood turn cold. What is this person going to do to me?

And suddenly it isn't just one person. Half the prison block appears to be lurking behind her, just hopeful eyes and Cheshire cat grins floating in the dark.

My heart is pounding so fast I think it must be trying to break free of my body.

The first inmate, a large overweight woman in her forties with short hair and a multitude of scars on her face, continues to stare at me like I am a piece of meat.

"Let's you and me get acquainted, honey." She drawls, stepping closer. "I have a feeling we're gonna be real close."

Before I can comprehend what that means, several pairs of coarse hands have grabbed me, dragging me off the bed and throwing me roughly onto the ground. I yelp as my body hits the stone floor with a dull thud, feeling a shot of pain rush through my left arm. The air is knocked out of my lungs and I gasp pitifully. Where the hell are the guards?

Before I can begin to get my breath back, my wrists are pinned above my head and my pants were yanked down.

"No." I shout, struggling with all the strength I can find. I kick out, landing a foot in someone's shin. It would be my only point in this fight as someone – or several people – grab my legs and hold them firm.

The large woman steps back into my view, the same grin marring her face.

"I think we've got a fighter." She laughs heartily. I kick out again but it is little use against their combined strength. A rough hand begins to make its way up my leg and I swallow a cry.

I can feel my breath getting ragged and unsteady, the air getting thin around me. The woman leans down, her sour breath replacing what little oxygen I still have. "I like a girl who fights." She murmurs, before promptly sticking her tongue down my throat.

I squirm, furiously attempting to wriggle out from beneath her. When she finally pulls back there are tears in my eyes and I scrunch them closed, refusing to let these people see me cry. The hand finds its way back to my thigh and my whole body stiffens beneath it.

"No, please don't!" I whimper, although it sounds pathetic even to my own ears.

Just when I think my pounding heart is about to give up, I am offered a reprieve.

"No." The voice is hard, forceful. The assault comes to an abrupt pause as everyone's gaze shifts upwards. I crack open my eyes, seeking out the source of the voice.

This time I recognise the figure that steps into my view.

The blonde moves closer, her piercing blue eyes latched onto the leader of the group who was currently straddling my legs. They share a look before she shifts her gaze down to me. For one hopeful moment I truly believe she is here to put an end to my suffering, but when she speaks – her voice cold and detached – all my optimism fades to dust.

"This one's mine."


	3. Chapter 3

**Tough chapter to write but hopefully it's not too hard to read. Let me know what you think :)  
**

**Thank you to everyone's who's reviewed so far. Next chapter should be up tomorrow  
**

**x x x x  
**

**Sara's POV**

"Let go of her." She orders calmly.

"Yeah, sure." The inmate sitting atop me scoffs, a sound akin to sandpaper on stone. "I know you're new to this Goldilocks, why don't you let me walk you through it?" She adds condescendingly. "After all Cat, you of all people know that I know what I'm doing."

The mocking tone of her voice and the dark look that crosses 'Goldilocks'' face suggests these two have locked horns before. I flick my eyes frantically between the two of them, waiting for one to make a move.

My cellmate – Cat, I presume – crouches down so she is eye to eye with my current attacker. Resigning myself to the fact that the guards are not coming, all I can do is hope that she is on my side.

Right now it could go either way.

"Let go of her." She enunciates slowly. "She won't move."

Somewhat uncertainly, the restraining hold on my arms and legs slacken and finally disappear altogether. Dim light floods back into my view, albeit briefly, as the woman on top of me moves only to be quickly replaced before I have a chance to make the most of my moment of freedom.

Without a word, Cat settles herself on my hips, her hands falling naturally onto my sides. My breath hitches, a hiccupping sob lodging in my throat. Even if I could form words right now, I daren't ask what she is going to do to me.

She leans down, her strawberry-blonde hair falling over her shoulders and shielding our faces from the group. I can smell peppermint on the hot breath that grazes my cheek.

"Just do as I said. I don't want to hurt you." She whispers, placing a hand over my eyes. Reluctantly, I let my eyelids flutter closed against her skin. Perhaps it will be better if I am blind throughout this ordeal.

Without warning, her lips are on mine. The kiss is dominant, rough, as she forces her tongue between my teeth. I instinctively try to resist but the more I attempt to move away, the more strength she puts into holding me still. After several futile attempts, I give into her persistence. Unexpectedly, as soon as I stop struggling Cat releases my mouth.

I can feel her laboured breathing, her grip still firm on my waist. With her body blanketing me I can't see anyone else, but all the blood rushing through my ears isn't enough to block out the sound of their impious laughter. I am their entertainment for the evening, it seems.

"I'm sorry." Cat breathes against my lips, pressing a final brief kiss to my cheek before leaning further down to latch her mouth to her my neck. Her teeth nip softly, then harder when I try to squirm away. A warning, I realise.

Attempting to push all of my instincts aside, I will myself to stay still. If I do as she told me and don't fight back, maybe I can get through this in one piece.

I am vaguely aware of her hands, soft and gentle in comparison to the previous woman's, moving further down my body.

Her mouth follows, inching my t-shirt up and trailing kisses along my stomach. I keep my eyes tight closed, not wanting to see the barrage of leering faces above me. Every now and then a stray hand will reach out to grab me before Cat bats it away. Clearly whatever she is going to do to me, she wants to do it alone.

Their jeers and hollers fade into mere sounds now as my heartbeat deafens everything around me. I can barely even feel what she is doing to me as my deep-rooted defences kick into action and I begin to lock myself away in my own head. The ability to detach myself from my own body was the only thing that had kept me alive as a child.

However, I am rudely brought back from my internal hiding place by a sharp kick to the shoulder. It came from my left but I daren't open my eyes to seek out the culprit.

Without a chance to retreat again, I yelp in surprise and pain when two fingers are pushed inside me. All ideas of just laying still and taking it go out of the window and I begin to kick my legs, attempting to throw Cat off me. Her husky voice appears in my ear again, oddly comforting.

"Stop fighting. It'll hurt less." She mumbles softly. Biting down on the surge of anger and fear running through my veins, I do as she asked. I lay still.

Placing a supporting hand beside my head to steady herself, Cat continues to torment me; peppering soft kisses across my jaw-line as she does so. I wanted to scream but my body won't let me. I try not to respond to her touches but my body can't help it.

"Let go for me." She pleads desperately, pressing her lips to the corner of my own. She slips her arm beneath my neck, until her body is flush against my own. "Then it'll all be over; just let me take you."

And I do. I hate every ounce of my being for it, but I don't see any other way out. Tears stream down my cheeks as I turn my head into her shoulder, shielding myself from everyone else as best I can.

And just as she had promised, everything stops. The noise and the pain vanish all at once. Cat's weight disappears from my stomach, allowing me to curl up in a protective ball on the stone floor.

"You've had your fun. Now get lost." I hear her say in an empty voice from somewhere nearby.

I sense the circle around me disperse as, one by one, they begin to file out; their screeches reduced to hushed whispers as the sound of heavy footsteps finally signals the arrival of the guards.

"Lockdown!" A gruff male voice bellows down the long corridor.

I am vaguely aware of someone nearby talking to me, but I can't focus on it. I feel like my whole world has just crashed down around me.

I feel numb.

I feel nothing.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

I keep my gaze low as the filed out to the sound of the approaching guards.

They know, of course; but as long as they don't catch anyone in the act they can continue to pretend it isn't happening. And no one would dare speak of it outside the prison.

As long as everyone follows the unwritten rules, no one ever needs to find out what really happens inside these walls.

When I glance back up there is one person still lingering behind, staring at the girl curled up at my feet. Once she catches my eye she steps forward, scuffing her heavy boots along the ground. When she speaks she is talking to the girl, but her gaze never leaves my own.

"You got off easy, Sunshine."

Without missing a beat, she swings her foot out and lands it squarely in the girl's ribs.

I lunge forwards, shoving her roughly away until her back hits the wall.

"Get lost Harper." I bark. "She's not free game anymore."

For a moment I blink at her with baited breath, angry tears springing to my eyes. Last time I stood up to Harper, I ended up in the medical wing for a week. Right now, she seems undecided on whether to act on my rebellion or not.

Whether it is the sound of the guards, or the sick satisfaction she will get from making me wait for punishment, I'll never know; but instead she backs out of the cell, her blank eyes still fixed on my own.

"You'd better watch your back Goldilocks." She sneers. "You and your new little bitch."

"Back in your cage, Harper!" One of the guards snarls, throwing a lazy glance in my direction. He raises an eyebrow at the girl, still curled in a ball on the floor, but says nothing as he slides the metal bars shut and locks us in for the night.

Just the two of us. Alone. Safe ... for tonight at least.

I wait, barely breathing, until the echoing of metal clashes and the dying footsteps fade to nothing.  
Finally alone, I move to crouch down beside her. She is shaking, her face buried in her hands as terrified sobs wrench their way from her tiny frame. I reach out a tentative hand but quickly withdraw it without touching her. Right now, I am probably the last person she wants near her.

Instead, I drag the blanket off the bottom bunk and drape it over her. She barely seems to notice, but at least it will keep her from freezing to death her first night here.

I briefly consider going to bed and leaving her to get up in her own time, but I know there is no way I am going to get any sleep just yet.

So I sit down on the cold floor; close enough to keep an eye on her, but far enough away that I am not in her personal space. She has had enough of that for one night.

And I wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys, thanks for the reviews so far :) I know it's kind of slow at the moment, but I want to suitably set the scene. Hope you like  
**

**x x x x**

**Sara's POV**

I don't remember falling asleep, but evidently exhaustion had overtaken fear.

I awake wrapped in a blanket, though still on the floor. Every muscle in my body aches from the cold stone beneath me.

Blinking my eyes open tiredly, I am surprised to find Cat sitting cross-legged beside me, just staring vacantly at the bars. I attempt to sit up, easing myself into an upright position until a shot of pain in my ribs screams at me to stop.

At my audible gasp Cat turns, her blank features instantly softening as she scans my pained expression. One glance into her blue eyes and everything comes flooding back to me in an instant. What she has done to me, why I am on the floor.

"Hey." She says quietly.

And that is it.

She stands up, stretching her stiff muscles and walks over to the bed. Without a word she places my clothes – neatly folded – beside me and clambers onto the top bunk, where she lies down with her back to me.

I frown, staring at her for a moment longer before reaching out a shaky hand to snatch my pants back.

I re-dress as hurriedly as my bruised bones will allow, casting frequent glances into the dark corridor. Judging by the deafening silence, it must be the middle of the night by now; the only sounds being distant sleep-induced grunts and the occasional ominous creak of the bars.

Grabbing my blanket from the floor, I crawl onto my own bed and curl up in a tight ball; silent tears creeping down my cheeks.

Everytime I close my eyes I can still feel her hands all over me, can still taste her lips on my own. I can still hear the sound of their jeers and screeches of laughter at my suffering.

If this is prison, I am in hell.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

When I awake, she is already up. To be honest, I don't even know if she ever went to sleep.

"Hey." I yawn, hopping off the bed and wincing as my feet land on the hard floor will a dull thud.

She flinches, dropping her toothbrush into the sink and moving to lean against the far wall. It hardly puts any distance between us, but the point she is trying to make is clear.

With a small sigh I follow her, holding up my hands defensively when she visibly stiffens in my presence.

"I'm sorry about last night." I begin. "Truly, I am. But trust me; what I did was for your own good."

She continues to regard me with suspicious eyes, clearly disbelieving of my feeble attempt at an explanation.

Not that I can blame her. Until last night I could never comprehend committing such a despicable act.

"I'm sorry." I say again, dropping my gaze. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Clearly it is too early to expect her to understand, so I drop the subject and move to the 'bathroom' corner of the cell. It has been so long since I've had to share, I suddenly feel self-conscious and cast a nervous glance back in her direction.

Possibly because she can't stand to look at me right now, or possibly because she is still decent enough to afford me some privacy, she keeps her back turned.

I choose to believe it is the latter. That way, at least I may still have a chance to mend fences with her.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I don't know what scares me more: the prospect of having to see _that_ woman again, or the idea of communal showers.

This is a concept that I have loathed since they were forced upon us at school. And after what happened last night, I am certainly not in any great hurry to bare myself to these people again.

We are herded like cattle towards the shower block. I clutch my towel desperately, the closest thing I have to a security blanket right now.

I keep telling myself to breathe, but when I reach the front of the queue my legs seem to stop working and I freeze up.

"Hey Babyface, we don't have all day!" The guard barks, nudging me roughly forwards with his baton. Suddenly a pair of hands grips my waist, marching me into the room.

I cast a glance over my shoulder, almost reassured to realise that it is Cat weaving me into the changing area. Almost.

A quick scan of the area relieves some of my fears. The woman from last night isn't here. There are currently seven people in the block, ambling around seemingly without a hint of insecurity. I undress quickly, shielding my body as best I can as I stepped under the lacklustre stream of tepid water. I can sense Cat close by, although I daren't look anywhere but at the wall. The feeling of uncaring eyes on my skin is already more than I can stand.

As soon as I am free to leave, I grab my towel and start to get dressed faster than I ever have before.

Glancing down, I realise why every movement is causing me immense pain. A large portion of my rib cage is tinted an angry purple. Tracing my fingertips over the bruise curiously, I try to recall how I got the injury, but come up blank. Apparently I have blocked out at least some of last night.

The feeling of skin brushing against my own snaps me back and I quickly pull my t-shirt on and turn to leave. Cat is leaning against the door, waiting for me to catch up. With a simple nod, she gestures for me to follow her. The stubborn part of me wants to rebel and go my own way, until reality reminds me that I don't know the way back to my cell. So, reluctantly, I drag my feet after her and slope back inside our little cage. She is already trying to pull a comb through her long hair, muttering at the tangles in frustration.

Giving her a wide birth, I sit on my bed and begin drying my own loose curls. I never notice that she has stopped what she was doing and is watching me inquizatively, until she breaks the silence between us.

"Catherine Flynn."

X x x

**Cath's POV**

If she was talking to me, I would have warned her about the shower system here. It tends to freak newbies out until they realise that no one is paying them any attention anyway. Except the guards of course, but you get used to that.

And she is clearly more than a little freaked out right now.

When the guard swings his baton towards her I quickly lunge forwards, grabbing her by the waist. He flashes me an angry glare, which I wordlessly return before ushering her into the room.

I can't quite tell whether the look she sends me is one of relief or of fear as I guide her to a relatively quiet corner and allow her to undress.

The shower block is a simple layout, much like school locker rooms. Several showers in a square room with a few benches around the edges for changing.

I stay close, keeping one eye on her at all times. No one else seems to be taking too much notice, but I am not willing to take that chance yet. Right now, I don't think she can take much more grief from anyone. She seems to accept my presence with little complaint and sticks close by.

Which is why I am puzzled to find that she isn't behind me when I make to leave. I scan the room, spotting her still getting dressed at the bench. She appears to be examining the deep bruising on her side.

I wince involuntarily on her behalf. That moment has been replaying in my head ever since it happened – the sound of Harper's boot colliding with her delicate ribcage. The small whimper of acknowledgement as she curled up impossibly tighter.

I lean against the wall, waiting for her to come back from her thoughts. Someone brushes against her, seemingly snapping her back from her reverie and she quickly finishes getting dressed.

I nod to get her attention and slip back into the corridor. I am just beginning to think that she hasn't followed me - or that she's gotten lost - when she finally shuffles in and sits down on her bed.

I am already wrenching the comb through my hair but I pause, flicking my eyes towards her.

It suddenly strikes me that I don't even know her name yet. Come to think of it, she doesn't know mine.

"Catherine Flynn." I announce, earning an odd look from her. "It just dawned on me that we haven't been formally introduced." I point out with a coy smile.

She apparently, doesn't see the funny side. She tosses her hairbrush onto the bed and stalks back into the corridor.

My face falls as I watched her disappear. Despite her obvious fears, she is actually willing to fend for herself out there rather than share even the smallest piece of personal information with me.

What have I done?

I only wanted to protect her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys. Next chapter is in the wings, may even be up later tonight; if not will definitely be tomorrow :) Hope you enjoy this one x**

**x x x x**

**Sara's POV**

It's true, we haven't been officially introduced. That aside, the memory of last night is still fresh in my mind and I'm not exactly in the mood for idle chit-chat with the woman who …

Shaking my head before the thought took hold, I toss my hairbrush onto the bed and stand up. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse the look that crosses her face, but I choose to ignore it as I stride past her into the corridor.  
I don't know where I am going, but I had committed myself now. To turn back would be a direct display of weakness and that was the last thing I was going to give Catherine Flynn. Lord knows, she's already taken enough from me.

A few people are heading towards a set of stairs at the end of the hall, so I elect to follow them. At the bottom, I find myself in a huge dining hall.

I'm not especially hungry, despite having not eaten for hours, but I pick up a tray anyway and allow the kitchen worker to dump a spoonful of something that might have been porridge on my plate.

As I turn to the endless rows of long tables, I find myself reminiscent of high school for the second time today.

And, like I had in every school I attended, I move to the table furthest away from the crowd and sit down alone to stare at my gruel.

Taking a deep breath, I pick up my spoon and take a small mouthful. Falling back into an old childhood habit, I start to make silent deals with myself. If I can eat all of this meal, I can stick this out. If I can make it back to my cell without getting lost, I will be okay.

If I can get through a whole night without crying, I might just survive in here.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

Despite my initial concern for her welfare, it doesn't take long to find her.

After all, she's still new and has to rely on following other people to get anywhere. So, naturally at this time of morning, I find her in the lunch hall.

Much like school, the hall is filled with long bench-style tables. And also like school, the new kid sits alone.

"Hey." I greet casually, sliding into the seat beside her. "I'm impressed; I half expected to find you wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles."

No response. In truth I hadn't really expected one.

In order to get her attention, I prise the spoon from her hand and slide the tray away from her. She sends me a brief, angry glare before making a point of staring straight ahead in order to avoid looking at me.

"Look, I know you're pissed with me." I start, keeping my voice low even though there is no one sat close enough to overhear. "I don't blame you. But you don't understand how this place works..."

"I don't want to understand it." She snaps, finally turning her eyes towards me. Although I keep the realisation to myself, it strikes me that this is the first full sentence she has said to me since arriving. "I just want to get out of here."

Despite the badly disguised pain in her voice, I can't help but laugh.

"Don't we all, honey." I hum, gesturing to the room. "No one would pick this life if they had a choice."

"No." She agrees softly, scanning the mass of people piling down the stairs. "I guess not."

I offer what I hope is an understanding smile, but any small amount of understanding I had been about to build with her disintegrates as a large shadow cloaks the table.

"Well, if it isn't Goldilocks and her new pet." Harper smirks. "How's that pretty little ass of yours feeling today, Sunshine?"

I shift my gaze from Harper's smug grin to the girl beside me. She is staring at Harper, a multitude of emotions crossing her face before she pushes herself away from the table and bolts towards the stairs. For a moment it feels like everyone in the room stops what they are doing just to stare, to a chorus of laughter and jeering from the harpies.

One of them breaks away from the group and makes to go after her, but before I know what I am doing I have stood up and slammed my hands on the table.

"No!" The word left my mouth seemingly void of any instruction, but it was too late to take it back. Harper locks eyes with me, one eyebrow quirking slowly at my insolence.

"No?" She repeats.

"You said it yourself Harper. She's mine." I point out. "And only mine."

A sharp, hard laugh chokes out of her; followed by a loud guffaw.

"Yeah, that she is." She concedes, leaning across the table until I can see every fleck of colour in her eyes. "You just be sure you make the most of it." She warns in a low voice. "After all, we wouldn't want a pretty little thing like that to go to waste now, would we?"

The backhanded threat makes my stomach clench but I bite my tongue against replying. Instead, I step out from the bench and stride past her. I barely made it three steps before I feel her fierce grip on my arm and that despicable voice hissing in my ear.

"You see Goldilocks, you're no better than I am now."

I wrench my arm free, not even bothering to feign composure as I hurry back to my cell, where I promptly fall to my knees in front of the toilet and lose the contents of my stomach.

The most sickening thing about it is that she is right. I am no better than her.

In fact, I'm worse. I actually tried to justify what I did to her.

Wiping my mouth, I lean back against the wall and scan the small space. For the first time I realise that she isn't here.

I pick myself up on shaky legs and walk slowly to the bars, when she appears in front of me. Our gaze meets and for a moment we just regard each other cautiously. Finally, she brushes past me and sits down on the lower bunk, folding her legs beneath her.

Had she been watching me? Does she know that I had tried to defend her from Harper's gang?

I don't have the strength right now to even attempt to strike up a conversation, so I climb carefully onto my bed and lay down, wrapping my arms around my stomach.

"Sara." I lift my head, beginning to think I'd imagined it when the soft voice speaks up again. "My name's Sara Sidle."


	6. Chapter 6

**Cath's POV**

I roll over, so I am hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Pretty." I comment. "So Sara Sidle, what are you in for?"

From my awkward view I see her drop her head. I don't hear what she mumbles beneath her breath but I decide not to push it. Instead, I swing my legs off the bed and jump down.

"Drugs." I state, dropping down beside her. "My boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – got me onto coke and then left me to take the fall."

"He sounds charming." She mutters, looking away. I laugh softly, humming in agreement.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't his manners that attracted me." I point out dryly. "He was dangerous … exciting. It was all one big party with Ed until the cops showed up." I run a hand through my hair, swallowing hard at the memory of my arrest. "Then he couldn't be seen for dust."

"Yeah, I know the type." Sara murmurs, toying with a loose thread on her pants. The tone of her voice suggests that isn't just an idle statement and that she does actually understand something of Eddie's type. I scrutinise her for a moment, finally asking the question that has been bugging me for some time now.

"How old are you, Sara?"

"Seventeen." She replies, straightening up as if trying to project an air of strength despite her young age. Instead, the action comes across as defensive and distrustful.

"Oh man." I breathe, shaking my head. "Just a baby."

She appears to take offence at that, but it is true; in here, at least. I have heard of minors as young as fifteen being sent to adult prisons, but only for truly serious crimes. And somehow I can't picture this timid little thing as a serial killer.

As if reading my mind, or perhaps finally demonstrating a little trust in me, she speaks again.

"Solicitation."

That's more like it.

"Let me guess." I hum, twisting around to lean against the bedpost in order to better face her. "Runaway? Drugs?"

"No drugs." She shakes her head. "And I didn't run, I was kicked out."

"Your parents threw you out?" I clarify. Perhaps this girl and I have more in common than just a concrete cell and a dose of bad fortune. She turns to me with a dark look.

"I haven't had parents in a long time."

Just as I was beginning to gleam an insight into this mysterious young woman, her expression becomes stony and her defences rocket up around her. Perhaps she thinks she's said too much.  
As curious as I am about her increasingly deep background, I decide it is probably best not to push her any more.

For a few minutes we both sit in silence at opposite ends of the bed; her visibly in deep thought and myself trying to think of something to say before I lose my connection with her all together.

In the end, to my surprise, she beats me to it.

"Who was that woman … last night?" All confidence, whether feigned or not, has vanished from her voice, which comes out quiet and meek.

"Harper?" I inquire with a dark laugh in an attempt to hide my instinctive fear. "Oh don't worry, you'll find out about her soon enough."

X x x

**Sara's POV**

Needless to say, her answer doesn't exactly fill me with comfort.

I shift to face her and feel a stab of pain shoot through me. Catherine obviously notices me wince and a guilty look crosses her features. For a moment she doesn't seem to know what to say. Finally, she reaches out a shaky hand and pats my leg gently, mumbling an apology before practically bolting from the cell.

I frown, unsure of how to take her reaction. The memory of last night is still far too fresh in my mind to even consider letting my guard down around her, at least any more than I already have. Although she does seem genuinely sorry for her actions.

But if she knew it was wrong, why did she do it?

I consider asking her upfront about it when she returns – to address the pink elephant in the room, so to speak. After all, if we were going to be stuck in here together for several months, we can't just keep pretending it hasn't happened.

After suitably gearing myself up to put the question to her, I begin to pace, waiting for her return. I replay the conversation in my mind several times, contemplating every possible reaction.

I don't know why I'm so nervous. I have a right to know, after all. On the other hand, I have never confronted an abuser directly before. Unless you count Jonathan...

I hear the scuffle of her shoes behind me and turn, already preparing to speak. But one look at the shell-shocked expression on her pale face and I instantly snap my mouth shut.

"You okay?" I ask softly.

She turns her sad eyes towards me, scanning my face for a long moment before silently climbing onto her own bed.

I remain in the middle of the room, watching her with bemusement. She has only been gone for a few minutes.  
What the hell is this place?

X x x

**Cath's POV**

My stomach knotted at her wince of pain. I wanted desperately to explain what Harper was capable of, but I couldn't find the words. To be honest, there weren't enough words in the world.

In the end I didn't say anything. I vaguely recall offering an apology before I scarpered from the cell.

I had been expecting her to ask sooner or later, but I hadn't thought about what I would say to her when she did.

I just need to clear my head. To take a walk and work out what I am going to tell her. She deserves an explanation, if nothing else.

After pacing up and down the corridor for a while, I elect to just start from the beginning and see where we end up.

En route back to my cell, dragging my feet reluctantly as I go, I hear the doors at the end of the corridor screech open and press my back against the wall as the guards make their way towards me. One of them barely acknowledges my presence with a small nod, while the other blanks me completely as they march past.

But I'm not really looking at them anyway. My attention is focussed on the girl held firmly in their grip.

She is short, with shoulder-length blonde hair and frantic eyes; trying to look at everything at once as she is dragged through the stone labyrinth.

One more animal for the cages. One more victim of the state.

On the plus side, I'm sure Sara will be thrilled to hear that she's no longer the new girl.

X x x

I had every intention of telling her what I had seen in the hallway, but in the end I never did. She would find out soon anyway.

And sure enough, fifteen minutes before lockdown, people begin to file out of their cells. Without a word, I grab Sara's wrist and tug her into the hall. She had been quietly reading and grumbles at the intrusion, but I resist her attempts to pull away and continue to force her to accompany me.

As soon as she spots the crowd up ahead she freezes and tries to wrench herself free, but I hold her strong, giving her a final push forward which ultimately results in her being catapulted into the new girl's cell.

Just like last night, the terrified new inmate lies pinned on the ground by the gang, squirming and writhing beneath Harper like a fish slowly dying on land. She receives a slap for her efforts before a pair of teeth sinks into her neck.

Sara has turned white. She takes a step backwards – more of a stumble really – until her back collides with me, at which point she tries to escape. I grab her around the middle, holding her fiercely against my body. Her desire to be anywhere but here right now is entirely understandable, but I can't let her leave yet. Not until she has seen what I need her to see.

Not until she has seen what I was protecting her from.

The new girl screams as Harper continues her vicious assault. Her futile attempts to fight back only cause the attacker to apply more force and draw more pained yelps and cries from her latest victim.

"Why are you doing this?" She manages to wail before someone delivers a sharp kick to her head.

Harper, thoroughly enjoying herself, throws a look over her shoulder, surveying the crowd she has amassed and catches sight of me watching from the door. She grins, holding my gaze as she forces herself even more onto this poor woman.

At this point Sara breaks free from my grip and takes off down the hallway, crashing into the wall on her way.

No matter. She has seen enough to understand.

I walk back to my cell slowly, attempting to ignore the desperate cries for help from the newest member of our little family. Soon be over, I think to myself; hoping that by some transcendental miracle the message would reach her.

I, like everyone else here, know just how long fifteen minutes can last.

By the time I reach our cell, Sara is sat on the floor, having presumably just lost everything she managed to eat today.

"You okay?" I ask quietly, although I knowI won't receive an answer. Throwing a wary glance in my direction, she picks herself up on shaky legs and staggers to the bed, where she promptly falls onto the hard mattress and curls into a ball.

I watch her for a moment before sitting down carefully behind her.

"I wasn't lying when I said I did it to protect you." I start. "I was trying to protect you from that."

"What the hell is this place?" Sara asks through breathless tears. I barely recognise the laugh that chokes out of my throat as I reach out and pat her hip gently.

"For the next six months," I state calmly. "This is home, kid."


	7. Chapter 7

"Better out than in." I point out cheerfully, receiving little more than a grunt of acknowledgement before Sara lunges forwards and empties her stomach again – if there is anything left in there to evict.

I am currently leaning against the wall with her pinned between my legs as she slumps against the toilet, where we have been for the past hour. She can't stand up without throwing up and I daren't move because every time I let go of her she falls over.

"What the hell was in that tripe?" She groans weakly.

"It takes some people time to get accustomed to the food." I agree, rubbing small circles on her back. She shifts slightly, so she is leaning more against my body. I'm sure it is less of a conscious move and more of a loss of ability to hold herself upright any longer, but I wrap my arms around her waist anyway to hold her there. "You'll get used to it."

"When?" She murmurs.

"Hey, you've already gotten past the worst part." I attempt to put a brighter spin on it. "If you can survive the first couple of days, you'll be fine."

"This is surviving?" She asks rhetorically, shifting again.

"Hey kid, I've seen people handle it worse than you have." At my soft chuckle, which surely reverberated through her delicate frame, she straightens up a little and runs a shaky hand through her hair.

"I'm sorry." She offers quietly. "I'm sorry you have to see this."

I laugh again, shaking my head.

"Oh honey, I've seen worse." I assure her. Although I must admit, I haven't seen anyone turn quite this shade of green in a long time. But I keep that to myself.

"Yeah, I bet." She concedes, twisting slightly in my grip so she is facing me. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

Before I answer, I move my legs to adjust to her new position; ensuring she is suitably supported before nodding for her to continue.

"What's the deal with Harper?"

The question takes me by surprise. She must pick up on my reluctance to answer because her glazed eyes become earnest and hopeful.

"I want to know." She practically pleads.

I release a breath, blowing a loose strand of hair aside.

"Alright, but this might not make your stomach any better." I warn.

"I can take it." She promises me, although the colour of her face suggests otherwise.

"Okay, well…" I trail off. Where to start? "Sara, everyone in here belongs to someone." I begin, trying to plan where I am going with this as I speak. "And once you're theirs, they can do anything they want with you."

"Why?" She asks, pulling a face. "Why treat each other like property when we're already treated like dirt by the State?"

"Because that's how this place works." I shrug simply. "It's the way it's always been. There are the Bulls – people who use others for their pleasure – and the bitches. Harper's a Bull."

"Well, that fits." She mutters, looking away.

"On your first night here, you're free game – you don't belong to anyone, therefore you're up for grabs. And whoever takes possession first gets to claim ownership of you."

Sara sends me a dark look and I can practically read the thoughts currently flashing through her mind.

"Who makes up these cockamamie rules?" She inquires incredulously.

"Doesn't matter. Rules are rules." I state, much to her blatant displeasure. "I got news for you Sara; you're my bitch. Which means I can do anything – or make you do anything I want."

She visibly swallows hard, glancing down at the floor between us.

"But," I continue, reaching out to lift her chin. "It also means that no one else can lay a hand on you."

"Seriously?" She asks, searching my face with suspicion.

"Sara, as long as you're mine no one else can touch you." I insist. "Unless I were to trade you, or sell you."

"Sell me?" She repeats, somewhat insulted. "For what?"

"Drugs, smokes. Anything else people can get their hands on." I shrug again. "But that's not something you need to worry about. I'm not giving you up to anyone."

"Gee, thanks." She retorts flippantly, and I can't help but crack a smile despite the weight of the conversation between us.

"You're welcome." I reply sweetly, before softening my voice. "Sara, I want you to know … I've never done that to anyone before. And the only reason I did it to you is because I couldn't stand to see you hurt like – well, you saw."

I drop my gaze, but I see her nod slowly. We fall silent for a few minutes, each considering where to go from here. Finally, she speaks; although what she says surprises me yet again.

"If everyone 'belongs' to someone, surely that means Harper is someone's property too?"

"Once upon a time, she was." I agree, absently doodling a pattern on her shoulder where I was supporting her. "But Harper's been here for a very long time. Whoever made her their personal sex slave is long gone now."

She cocks her head to the side, considering my words. I can practically see the question burning in her dark eyes and I hurriedly climb to my feet before she has chance to ask it.

It is apparent that she has lost everything she is going to, so I feel relatively safe in moving her now.

"Come on girl." I say, effectively ending the conversation. I wrap my arms around her middle from behind and lift her to her feet. She is surprisingly light and in her current state of weakness, she puts up little fight.

I march her to the bed and drop her unceremoniously onto it.

"Lie down, on your stomach." I encourage, helping to her roll over. She folds her arms beneath her head, burying her face in them.

I climb carefully on top of her, settling on the back of her legs. She instantly twists, trying helplessly to wriggle out from beneath me.

"It's okay." I promise, turning her back over. "Just lay still."

Flexing my hands, I place them gently onto her back and began massaging her pressure points.

"What are you doing?" She asked pitifully, unable to fight me off although clearly wanting to.

"Trust me, it'll help you to sleep." I reassure her. "Don't ask me about the science of it, but it relaxes the muscles and it should help with the stomach cramps."

Receiving no answer, I glance down and smile. She is already half-asleep, fighting a losing battle to keep her eyes open. Not that I can blame her; she hasn't slept in two days and she has been in immense pain for the majority of today.

I lean down, dropping a kiss onto her crown.

"It'll get easier soon, I promise." I mumble against her soft hair, before climbing carefully off her.

When I turn, my heart jumps to my throat. Lurking in the shadows outside our cell, grinning through the bars like a Cheshire cat, is the very object of our previous conversation.

"Aw, how touching." Harper sneers callously. She never breaks her gaze with mine as she wanders away, her crooked teeth still bared.

I scowl, waiting for her to disappear completely from my sight before draping the blanket over Sara and clambering onto my own bed, to the familiar sound of the Lockdown guards approaching.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I am surprised to awake feeling fairly refreshed. Whatever Catherine did to my back, it has obviously had some effect because that was the first proper sleep I've had here.

She, on the other hand, looks like she has barely slept a wink.

"Hey." She groans, sliding off her bed.

"Hi." I greet quietly, barely tearing my gaze from the notebook in my lap. I presume it is her's, I found it under my bed; I just hope she doesn't mind me borrowing it.

She doesn't appear to, however, as she barely raised an eyebrow at it before sloping to the sink.

"You look like you're feeling better." She comments tiredly.

"I bit." I agree, not wanting to rub it in if she hasn't slept well. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great." She lies, splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to make herself more alert. I continue what I am doing, barely paying her any attention as she shuffles around the small space for a few minutes.

"What are you doing anyway?" She inquires at last, leaning over my shoulder.

"Nothing." I murmur, shielding the notebook from her view. It is nothing personal; I've always been protective of my work.

In my peripheral vision I catch sight of her rolling her eyes, but she is obviously too tired to push the issue. Straightening up, she stretches until her back emits a sharp crack and then hauls herself back onto the top bunk. From my position below, I can hear her tossing and turning for a few minutes before she settles back down.

Since I have been up for a while already, I have been reviewing last night's conversation and there are several questions floating around in the front of my mind, but I realise that now probably isn't the best time to pose them.

No matter; there will be plenty of time to quiz Catherine some more.

After all, it's not like either of us have anyplace else to be.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

As curious as I am, it is too early for me to care.

Leaving her to whatever secret task she is doing, I climb back into bed and curl up beneath the blanket.

After a few minutes I hear the bars unlock, signalling the official arrival of morning. Not long after, I hear Sara leave.

I am just considering getting up to follow her when I become aware of footsteps entering my cell.

"You weren't gone long." I point out, sitting up slowly and stretching again.

At the dark laugh that follows, my whole body freezes.

"It looks like you need a few lessons in how to keep your bitch in line." Harper comments, sliding the bars shut behind her. "You don't even know where she is."

Turning to face her, I back myself against the wall and curl my legs up to my chest in an attempt to make myself as small as possible. However, my efforts are in vain as she is still tall enough to reach up and drag me off the bed.

I yelp as I hit the hard floor, landing in an untidy heap.

She crouches down, so her voice is inches from my ear and I can smell the stale smoke on her breath from her illicit cigarettes.

"Why don't we start with the basics?" She utters.

I try to shove her away and receive swift punishment for my actions. Her hand has collided with my cheek before I can even register the movement.

"Now, now Goldilocks." She tuts. "You know the rules."

As her hands begin to tug at my clothing, my words to Sara float back to the forefront of my mind.

_Once you're theirs, they can do anything they want with you … that's how this place works…_

_Rules are rules, after all...  
_


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks again to everyone reading and reviewing :) Hope you're all enjoying it so far  
**

**x x x x  
**

**Cath's POV**

"I'm not like you." I manage to say with stronger conviction that what I feel.

"On the contrary," Harper murmurs, pressing her entire weight against me until I am immobilised against the metal bedpost. "You and I are exactly the same. We both use people to get what we want. I'm just better at it than you are."

"No!" I growl, attempting to push her off. I can admit to being a lot of things, but I am nothing like her.

"You're just using that pretty little thing to get to me." She continues, flicking her tongue against the shell of my ear.

"No!" I repeat, more forcefully.

My feeble attempts to fight against her ridiculous strength amuse her greatly and she throws her head back in laughter, revealing a mouth full of stained and cracked teeth.

"You still haven't learnt, have you Goldi?" She snarls, grabbing my pyjama bottoms and wrenching them down.

I try to call out but a firm hand is placed over my mouth.

"Don't you dare." She mutters, launching into her attack. Tears of pain spring to my eyes but I daren't scream. I had almost forgotten how much it hurts when she iss trying to make a point.

I feel her teeth scratch my neck and clamp down on the urge to throw up. I can practically feel the bruises appearing all over my skin as she determines to make me suffer.

All I can do is close my eyes and hope that she will leave as soon as she is done.

"Come on beautiful." She hisses. "You know what I want."

I do, and it sickens me to even consider obliging but Harper isn't exactly one to take no for an answer.

With an unexpected surge of anger-fuelled confidence, I flick my eyes to hers.

"You can do what you want to me, but you still can't have Sara." I point out, shocking even myself with the force of the words.

She recoils, either surprised at my sudden resilience or wounded by the truth in my statement – possibly both.

However, rage quickly replaces whatever almost-human emotion she had briefly felt and with complete lack of compassion she increases the force she is using on me. I emit a sharp cry, biting my lower lip against the pain. It feels like I am being ripped in two; I would give anything for this to end but I am not going to give her to satisfaction of winning this round. I close my eyes, dragging up the first good memory I can think of and holding onto it with all my mental strength.

Without warning, I am released and thrown roughly to the ground. My head bounces off the edge of the bed and I feel my wrist twist as it breaks my fall.

"I've missed you Goldi." She chuckles, standing over me menacingly as I curl into a tight ball. "Let's do this again sometime."

I scrunch my eyes tighter, barely even breathing until I am sure she has left. When I finally dare to crack my eyes open, they fall instantly onto Sara's notebook, which had fallen under the bed in the struggle.

It is open at the last page she had been working on, and staring back at me is a perfectly sketched rose, crying tears of blood.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I feel my stomach lurch as I approach my cell, having abandoned the idea of breakfast as soon as last night's memory flooded back to my mind.

I hear her pained whimpers from down the hallway, but I don't actually place them until I am directly outside the cell, watching with wide horror-struck eyes as Harper stands up, leaving Catherine to curl up pitifully in a ball.

I dart around the corner, pressing my back against the wall out of sight. My chest rises and falls with laboured breaths while I wait for the older woman to leave. As she saunters downstairs with a confident sway of her hips, I creep back around and tiptoe into the room. Cath remains curled up, crying softly to herself.

Thinking back to my first night here and how she had taken care of me afterwards, I want desperately to repay the favour but I am too scared to approach her. After all, we have only known each other for three days, and after being in here for so long she may have her own way of dealing with this.

After a long internal argument with myself, I elect to leave her alone to gather herself together in her own time. If she wants to talk later, I tell myself, I will be here to listen.

It's the least I can do.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

I am glad that Sara didn't see that.

I don't know where she is, but I pray she will stay there for just a little longer as I pick myself up on trembling legs and perch on the edge of the bed, wiping at my eyes.

I wince as I swipe the bruise forming on my cheek where Harper slapped me. I can't see myself but I'm sure I look like hell right now.

There's no way Sara won't notice my injuries, but hopefully she'll be kind enough to not ask.

Wiping my tears away again, I catch sight of the notebook. Despite the pain it causes, I stoop down to pick it up. The drawing is brilliant, if somewhat dark. But then, in here, I wouldn't exactly expect rainbows and sunshine.

I trace the picture gently with my fingertip. It is in ink. That makes it even more impressive; if I tried to draw something like this it would take at least four attempts to get the flower alone right.

"Hey."

The soft voice startles me so much that I drop the book again.

She doesn't seem fazed by my snooping, however, as she scrutinises my face carefully from the doorway.

I hurriedly wipe at my eyes, standing up shakily.

"Hey, I was just about to get dressed." I lie, turning my back and pretending to search for something in the hope that she will get the hint and leave it be.

I can feel her eyes burning into my skin for a moment longer before she seems to accept that I don't want to talk and takes up a seat on her bed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her pick up the notebook and stare at the image she's drawn for a while. It is almost like she is trying to place it, as if she doesn't recognise it herself.

"That's pretty dark." I comment, sending her a brief glance before quickly averting my gaze again.

"Yeah, well." She shrugs simply, putting it to one side. "This place is pretty dark, too."

I pause in my actions, sending her a sly glance. She is watching me curiously, obviously dying to ask me about my bruises. For a brief second I almost think I see pity in her eyes before she drops them into her lap.

I tug my clean clothes on and brush my hair away from my face, attempting to look somewhat decent again before I turn around to face her properly.

"I'd better get down there before they take all the breakfast off." I say, striding out as if I haven't just been cruelly assaulted.

The darkest thing about this place is that I can get away with this. No one will ask about it. No one will stare.

In here, no one cares.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

Okay, so evidently she doesn't want to talk about it.

I don't blame her. I wasn't exactly in a rush to talk afterwards, either.

She knows that I know. It's not exactly like she can hide the marks marring her pretty features.

The defensive, angry part of me wants to hunt Harper down and smash her head into these cold stone walls, but the rational part of my brain tells me that this would be a really bad idea, not least because her head alone probably weighs more than all of me.

The worst thing is feeling so helpless. At least Catherine could do something to protect me, as reprehensible as it was. Right now, as much as I want to help her, I'm not sure how. And if she isn't willing to talk to me about it, I can't even address the issue with her.

I almost consider bringing it up but I know in her situation – one which I'm sad to say I have some experience in – I wouldn't want someone calling me on it.

I watch her leave with a heavy heart. I'm sure that food is the last thing on her mind right now, but she obviously needs some time to be alone and the least I can do I oblige.

In the meantime, maybe I can think of some way to make myself useful in this hellhole.

I guess she was wrong about me.

I do know how this place works, after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi guys**

**Very tired today, so I hope this makes sense. If not let me know in a review and I'll try to clarify haha**

**Enjoy x**

**x x x x**

**Sara's POV**

She's doing it again.

She thinks I can't hear her but I always do. In the dead of the night, when no one else is awake, her soft cries echo around our tiny cell.

Normally I would bury myself beneath the covers and pretend I can't hear her, like I usually do; but not tonight.

I have been trying fruitlessly to think of some way to repay her for everything she has done for me, and I finally have an idea.

Crawling out from between the sheets, I lift myself onto her bed. She jumps at my sudden appearance, instinctively tugging the covers around her.

"Sara?" She asks quietly, her breath hitching slightly as she attempts to wipe away her tears without me noticing.

"Hi." I start dumbly, suddenly wishing I'd put a little more planning into this.

"Is something wrong?" She asks when I don't speak again.

"No." I shrug. "I just wondered if you wanted to talk."

She shuffles upright, pulling her knees up to her chest beneath the blanket. It had been two days since her run-in with Harper and though her bruises were still causing her some pain, her movements were becoming less rigid. We had yet to discuss the subject, which was clearly the way she wanted to leave things.

"Okay." She agrees tentatively in a puzzled voice. "Why now?"

"Because I couldn't sleep, and I know you couldn't either." I say simply.

Even in the darkness I see the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"No, I couldn't." She agrees, clearing her throat. "So, uh, what did you want to talk about?"

**X x x **

**Cath's POV**

I bite my lower lip, trying not to make a sound. I have lost count of the number of times I have done this. Every time I am consumed with guilt and shame and swear it is the last time; but sometimes the lonely nights are just too much to bear and I inevitably cave into temptation.

It feels pathetic and necessary all at the same time.

I suck in a sharp breath, biting my tongue, when suddenly I feel a weight land on my bed. I jump, startled, as Sara's bright eyes shine out at me in the dim light.

"Hi." She states randomly.

It takes a moment for me to react, carefully shifting so the covers remain wrapped protectively around me.

"Is something wrong?" I inquire curiously when she fails to expand on her brief greeting.

Apparently the brooding, mysterious creature I have been living with for the last few days has picked now as the optimum time to talk.

"I couldn't sleep, and I know you couldn't either." She explains her reasoning, running her hand along the edge of the mattress idly.

Well, there was no denying that.

"How long have you been in here?" She asks at last, cocking her head to the side. For a moment I actually have to think about that. How long has it been?

"Eight months." I clear my throat. "Unless you consider living with my ex a type a prison, too."

She laughs softly, dropping her gaze into her lap.

"I guess it gets pretty lonely in here, huh?" She mumbles, flicking her gaze up to peer at me from beneath her long lashes.

I feel my face flush and my eyes widen as the reason for her impromptu late night visit becomes obvious.

"You heard that?" I ask weakly, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

"Yeah." She breathes, quickly holding her hands up. "It's okay, I'm not … I don't mean it to sound judgemental."

"You were supposed to be asleep." I mumble sheepishly, looking away.

"I'm good at pretending." Sara shrugs. True to her word, she seems surprisingly okay with it. She licks her lips, considering her next words carefully. "I think I understand how this place works now: a favour for a favour." Not quite following the line of the conversation, I nod slowly for her to continue. "And, since you've done a lot to look out for me since I arrived, I thought maybe I could do something in return."

"Like what?" I ask suspiciously.

"Anything." She shrugs again. "Anything you want me to do…or want to do to me."

X x x

**Sara's POV**

It takes a moment for my shy suggestion to register and as soon as it does Cath's eyes go wide. She blinks, her mouth falling open in shock, but I daren't meet her gaze and keep my eyes glued nervously to my lap.

All of a sudden this doesn't seem like such a good idea.

"You're not suggesting…" She begins tentatively.

"It would make us even." I point out, hesitantly inching closer. "And it might get Harper off your back for a while. Literally."

She recoils, curling against the wall.

"You saw that?" She asks timidly, unconsciously reaching up to touch the bruise fading on her cheek.

"Yeah." I pause, softening my voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She attempts to straighten up but the action obviously causes her some pain as she visibly winces. "It's nothing I haven't had before." She adds quietly.

"Sorry." I mumble, although I'm not really sure what I am apologizing for. Deciding that this conversation was probably a bad idea from the start, I clear my throat and hold my hands up defensively.

"Look, uh, the offer stands if you change your mind."

I hop off the bed, unable to meet her gaze any longer, and curl up under my own sheets to lament my terrible people skills.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

We remain in silence for a while, each wondering where to go from here.

Shuffling back down the bed, I roll onto my side and fold an arm under my head.

I hear Sara's breathing starting to slow as sleep begins to claim her at last. Taking a deep breath, I speak up before I lose her to slumber altogether.

"I didn't say no."

I can almost hear her smile in the darkness and the mattress below me creaks with a small movement.

"No, you didn't." She agrees quietly.

I feel like I should say something else, to clarify that I won't make her do anything she doesn't want to do, but it doesn't seem warranted at the moment.

Leaving things as they lay for the time being, I curl back up into a ball, wrapping an arm around my stomach.

Unconsciously, my hand began to creep south again, but I quickly stop it. Despite my reservations about the idea, I can't help the small smile that dances across my lips as I find myself actually considering Sara's offer.


	10. Chapter 10

**Apologies for not getting this up last night like I had intended, personal issues got in the way. I hope you enjoy it anyway **

**x x x x**

**Cath's POV**

After our late night chat, I had expected at least a little awkwardness between Sara and I this morning, but thankfully there is nothing of the sort.

If anything, things feel unusually settled between us. It is like a weight has been lifted and replaced with a certain level of understanding.

Despite our new sort-of-friendship, we haven't actually spoken much since exchanging sleepy greetings this morning.

After lunch, during the mind-numbing dullness which seems to stretch all afternoon, Sara has settled on her bed with her notebook – a new routine of hers – and is contentedly doodling away to herself.

It was laundry day yesterday – colours – and I have just finished folding and tidying away all of my returned clothes. Now, with little else to occupy my time and a question that has been burning in the forefront of my mind all day, I amble over and perch on the edge of her mattress.

"Sara?"

"Hmm?" She doesn't look up from her work, but I am used to that. When she is drawing, nothing short of a fire will drag her eyes from the page.

"I was just wondering … about last night?" I say coyly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. "Were you serious?"

She smiles, a light blush tinting her cheeks.

"Yeah." She drawls, cocking her head to the side. "Why do you ask?"

"You know I … I, uh …" I stop, taking a deep breath. I know what I'm trying to say, but this is not a conversation I ever thought I would be having with someone I barely know. "I couldn't ask you to do something that you don't want to do." I manage to say at last. "Don't get me wrong, it's a very sweet offer, but I could never expect you to do something like that for me."

To my surprise, Sara laughs, finally tearing her attention away from her notebook with a playful glint dancing in her dark eyes.

"You do remember why I'm in here, right?" She asks teasingly.

I bite back a smile, trying to remain serious.

"I know, but that doesn't mean I'm going to make you…"

I trail off, my gaze falling onto the grinning shadow that is wandering past our cell. How much has she heard?

Before I can even begin to work out what to do next, Sara does the last thing I expect her to do.

She kisses me.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

If you asked me why, I couldn't tell you.

Catherine had been mid-sentence when she stopped, her eyes following something over my shoulder. I turn, following her line of sight to see what has gotten her so distracted.

Of course, why hadn't I guessed?

Harper is wandering past our cell with a manic grin on her face.

Turning back to Cath, my heart clenches to see the look of fearful despair in her eyes. Without even thinking, I do the first thing that comes into my head.

I lean forward, quickly pressing my lips to Catherine's.

I feel her jump at the action, but she doesn't do anything to stop it.

When we do eventually pull back, she is blinking at me in surprise.

"What was that for?" She asks calmly, her tongue darting out unconsciously to lick her lips.

Without bothering to offer an explanation, I glance over my shoulder again.

I still have no idea why I did it, but either way it worked. Harper has vanished.

Catherine is still watching me curiously when I turn back to face her, but this time there is a small smile twitching at her lips.

"Nicely played." She mumbles bashfully, nudging me gently in the leg before standing up and clambering onto her own bed.

"Thank you, I do try." I reply, clearing my throat.

It strikes me how easily the words roll off my tongue around this woman. Usually I would be a stammering mess, trying to think of some explanation regarding my actions or a half-decent comeback to her comment, but around Catherine they seem to come naturally.

Perhaps our unusual living arrangements are sparking some kind of mutual psychic connection.

I'm sure Freud would have something to say on the matter.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

It is rare that anything shocks me anymore, but Sara's kiss did just that.

It has been playing on my mind for most of the day and I can't quite put my finger on why that is.

It had been a tender kiss, albeit brief. It reminded me of my youth; stolen kisses underneath the bleachers and sneaking out of the back door for illicit late night meetings in the rain.

It is raining now.

I hate the rain. I used to like it when I was young – I liked the rhythmic sound it made against the walls and the refreshing chill of a rainstorm on a hot summer evening.

Now that sound is like a war drum, and the chill cuts straight through your bones, freezing you from the inside out.

I hold the blanket tighter around myself, sealing out the cold.

Below me, I can hear Sara shivering as well.

I dart my tongue out, wetting my dry, chapped lips. I can still taste her kiss.

Without relinquishing my hold on the blanket, I sit up and shuffle out of bed.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

It is the coldest night so far. So cold that I daren't even try to sleep in case I wake up frozen to the mattress in the morning.

In the darkness I see Catherine's legs swing off the edge of her bed before she drops down with a dull thud.

Suddenly another blanket is thrown on top of my own and my bed shifts with added weight as she shuffles underneath the covers.

"Catherine?" I inquire, not sure what is going on. "You okay?"

"Cold." She answers bluntly. "And I know you are too."

I smile, remembering when those words were last uttered between us.

She fidgets, trying to find a comfortable position in the small space. Finally she seems to settle and her breathing turns soft and slow.

I close my eyes, preparing to try and get some rest despite my newly acquired sleeping partner.

On the plus side, I'm not cold anymore.

A hand is thrown across my stomach and I feel hot breath against my neck.

"This still isn't a yes." She murmurs, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. In the dark that lay between us, I smile.

"Duly noted."

X x x

**Cath's POV**

Sara falls asleep first. I feel her breathing even out beneath my hand, which lies inoffensively on her stomach.

I look up, scanning her peaceful face. It is the only time that I have truly seen her relax.

I still don't fully understand this girl. There is something deeply secretive about her that makes me want to know more.

When I first came here, I made a point of saying that I wasn't going to get attached to anyone or anything connected to this place.

If no one can get close enough to get under my skin, they can't hurt me.

But Sara Sidle is a different ball game all together. I am intrigued by her; I want to know what is hiding behind those expressive brown eyes.

But is it worth the risk of letting her get close enough to know _me_?


	11. Chapter 11

**My thoughts are with all those on the East Coast affected by the storm. **

**x x x x**

**Cath's POV**

Out of the corner of my eye I see Sara duck her head.

Casting a subtle glance around us, I move closer and wrap an arm around her slim waist. She jumps at the unhindered skin-on-skin contact, turning to me with a half-accusatory glare.

"Look." I state simply, turning her around enough to see that no one else in the small shower area is paying her any attention.

She narrows her eyes suspiciously for a moment before accepting what I am trying to show her and relaxing a little.

"Hey Lovebirds!" A harsh male voice hollers. "No fooling around! Beat it!"

Sharing a small smile, I tug her by the hand, leading her towards the benches.

I can't help noticing that the guards have been unusually tetchy this morning. It is like there is something in the air – an atmosphere of uneasiness.

Perhaps someone has been stealing blocks of cheese from the canteen again.

"I still don't like it." Sara utters at last, wrapping herself protectively in her coarse towel.

"No one does, Hon." I state bluntly. "But after a while no one cares enough to make a big deal of it."

"I don't think I'll ever understand this place." She mutters to herself, shaking her head in bemusement.

Despite my best efforts, I can't help the laugh that bubbles out of me at her disgruntled attempts to wriggle into her clothes without losing the fierce grip she has on her towel.

"Give it up sweetheart." I suggest lightly. "They've seen it all before."

"I don't care." She insists, finally succeeding in making herself somewhat decent.

Gathering our things together, we shuffle out to make room for the next batch of prisoners being herded under the cold water.

One thing I have desperately wanted to do ever since gaining my new roommate is to play with her gorgeous curls; and the desire strikes me yet again as I watch her fruitlessly attempt to drag a comb through them. Clearly the cheap shampoo here is of little use to her unruly mane.

After silently observing her struggle for several minutes, I give in to my urges and drop down beside her, prising the comb from her fingers.  
Normally it is at this point that she would squirm away, but today she remains still enough for me to take her damp hair and run it through my fingers gently.

"You need to make the most of the moisture." I state, carefully running my fingers through the tangles until they come free. "If you plait it, it'll be easier to manage."

It's a strange assumption people on the outside have that you have to cut your hair short when going into prison. The reality is that many women choose to cut it short because it makes it easier to handle.

"I cut my hair when I first came here." I start randomly as I begin threading Sara's shoulder-length locks through my fingers, draping them into a loose plait. "But it was more an act of defiance than for practicality."

"Oh?" Sara questions, turning instinctively towards me. I gently tip her head back again before continuing.

"Harper liked using it as a control method. She knew that if she tugged hard enough I would pretty much do anything she wanted me to."

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I don't know whether Cath realises it or not but she has just confessed two things to me, although I had already figured one out on my own.

"Why did you let it grow out again?" I ask, more to keep to conversation going than anything. It is the first time since my arrival that Catherine has spoken candidly about her own experiences in here.

"She got bored with me." Comes her curt reply. Although, contrary to her harsh words and cold, detached tone of voice, her touch remains surprisingly gentle.

Her fingers graze my neck lightly and I feel the skin there tingle. She must have heard my breath hitch because she retracts her hand. However, before either of us can assess the awkward silence that has suddenly befallen us, it is broken by a deep rumble from the floor beneath us.

The floor which is beginning to move underneath our bare feet.

Without warning there is a sudden jolt, like a huge lightning bolt striking the whole prison.

Downstairs, all hell seems to be breaking loose as the sound of screeches and crashes echoes off the high stone walls.

Sharing a fearful look, we shuffle out and peer over the railing.

Hell indeed.

I feel her hand slide into mine and squeeze tightly as we watch a riot ensue across the canteen.

The guards are trying futilely to calm the situation inamongst the chaos unfolding as the huge forbidding building continues to shake in its very foundations.

Only in here could people be so callous as to use a natural disaster as a pawn in a game of one-upmanship with the state.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

"Earthquake." I hear Sara mumble quietly. I turn my frightened eyes towards her when suddenly a crowd of people crash between us, severing my grip on her hand.

She disappears somewhere on the stairs, washed away with the mass of rowdy inmates, while I remain at the top watching the catastrophe unfold.

Tables have already been upturned and anything remotely breakable has been smashed to pieces. The building continues to tremble and roll, a deep groaning emanating from all around us.

Suddenly the guards' edgy behaviour earlier makes sense. Perhaps there has been some warning that this was going to happen. Due to my current circumstances, I am somewhat out of the loop with regards to breaking news.

Either way, the residents are certainly making the most of the few minutes of chaos.

I narrow my eyes, keeping a firm grip on the railing as I scan the area below me for any sign of my housemate.

I am so consumed in my desperate hunt for her that I don't notice the shadow that falls over me, until a firm hand appears around my mouth and a second around my neck.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

As a crowd of people surge down the stairs, I find myself torn from Catherine and washed along with the masses. Some of them are only wrapped in towels, having rushed from the showers in their urgency to get in on the action.

At the bottom of the stairs, a brawl is spreading around the room despite the best efforts of the guards to beat them down.

I move to a more concealed area, attempting to keep out of dodge. I glance up, trying to seek Catherine out in the mass of people on the landing but I can't see her.

Having been born and raised in California, I have been through enough earthquakes to know how to protect myself, but she is not a West Coast girl and this is probably a new experience for her.

Keeping my head ducked I sidle around the edge of the room, narrowly avoiding a stray fist, and dart back up the stairs. I was unpopular enough in high school to get pretty good at weaving through crowds unnoticed and make it to the top relatively unscathed.

Catherine is still nowhere in sight. I move swiftly through the hallway, checking our cell first. When she isn't there I begin searching the showers and other common areas.

There are only so many places that she can hide; and wherever she is, she is probably scared to death.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

I don't know what scared me most; the earthquake or the feel of her hands on my skin again.

The rocking has stopped by the time I make it back to our cell, but my legs are shaking too much for me to notice.

Sara is on her feet in a flash, but her hurried approach towards me comes to an abrupt stop when she sees the growing bruise on my forehead.

For the longest moment, we just stare.

When her pained dark eyes get too much to bear, I look away.

She inches closer, stepping tentatively into my personal space. When I don't move, she wraps her arms cautiously around me. I desperately want to respond to the embrace, but my arms are frozen at my sides.

After several long seconds, she releases me and steps away.

I wipe my eyes, sniffing back tears. She clearly knows what has happened and she knows that it has nothing to do with the earthquake.

It was a matter of opportunity, pure and simple.

We also both know that we won't talk about it. We never do.

X x x

"Sara."

Even to my own ears, my voice sounds weak.

There have been a couple of aftershocks since the quake, nothing major. But I still can't sleep and I'm pretty sure I know why.

I hear her move beneath me and I can practically picture her tipping her head to the side, considering whether I have actually spoken or whether she has imagined it.

"I need you."

The bed creaks as she moves.

I feel the telltale weight at the end of my mattress as she climbs up. I am laid on my side, my back to her, but I lift my head just enough to enable me to make out her figure in the darkness.

I feel a warm hand on my hip and fumble blindly for it, interlocking our fingers together tightly.

"Please." I whisper, seeking out her compassionate gaze through my blindfold of tears. "I need you."


	12. Chapter 12

**I wanted to get this one right :) And there's a little more from Sara's POV this time, to balance out some of the previous chapters. Hope you enjoy!**

**Also, massive thank you to everyone reading and reviewing :) I couldn't do it without you guys!**

**x x x x**

**Sara's POV**

I reach out tentatively to lay a hand on her hip. I'm not entirely sure what she wants from me and in her current emotional state I daren't push her too far.

She fumbles in the dimness, grabbing my hand tightly and threading her fingers through my own.

"Please." She whispers. "I need you."

I shift slightly, leaning down so I am pressed against her back.

"It's okay." I promise, although I have no idea what it is I am supposed to be reassuring her of.

She rolls on to her back so that she is gazing up at me with tearful blue eyes. She doesn't say a word, just continues to stare at me desperately.

"What can I do?" I ask helplessly; waiting for her to give me some clue, some sign as to what she needs.

She grips my hand tighter, pushing it beneath the covers down her stomach and pulling me flush against her in the process.

"I need you." She repeats, leaning up to close the small gap between us.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

The kiss starts off soft and pleading. Gradually, as Sara begins to relax against my body, she allows me access and I run my tongue across her lower lip, begging for more.

Her hand remains where I placed it, lying inoffensively on my stomach. I push it gently south, hoping that she will get the hint.

Somewhere in the rational part of my brain I'm sure someone is screaming at me that this is a bad idea, but right now nothing has ever felt more right. I don't know why and I don't know what we're going to do tomorrow, but I do know that I need Sara's touch more than anything.

She changes position, though never breaking the kiss, so she is lying beside me, her hands either side of my waist.

I feel my skin flush, my whole body heating up as her hands begin to move tenderly over my body.

She shifts lower, inching my t-shirt aside and seeking out my breasts with her mouth.

A strangled gasp catches in my throat as I arch my back into her touch, desperate for more contact.

"Please Sara." I whisper, tangling my hands in her hair as I try to encourage her down my body.

The injuries from Harper's latest round with me are barely on my radar at this moment in time, but I feel her curiously stroking my scars. She traces a mark down my thigh with her fingertip, following the trail with her lips.

I honestly can't remember the last time anyone touched me so softly.

I muffle the cry threatening to break free from my throat and try to swallow the realisation that the reason I can't remember it is because this is the first time anyone has touched me like this.

X x x

Sara has a distinctive gold fleck in her left eye.

I have never noticed it before. In all truth I don't think I have ever looked into them that closely, but now it's all I can picture: her passionate, mysterious eyes staring deep into my soul as she brought me to the edge of the world and back.

She hadn't said a word, but I got the feeling that she had been silently trying to tell me something last night.

She's still asleep, her peaceful expression facing me; slow deep breaths causing her chest to rise and fall beneath my hand.

I can't help but feel a little apprehensive about what might happen when she wakes up, but right now all I can think about is what happened before she fell asleep.

I can't help but wonder whether she felt the same thing I had. I can't put a name to it yet, but it wasn't something I have ever felt with anyone else.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

It takes me a moment to work out where I am. I blink, confusion clouding my mind as I realise I am higher off the ground than usual.

I turn, twisting and arching my back until it clicks. Satisfied, I roll over and realise why I am in Catherine's bed.

She is already awake; propped up against the railings, simultaneously running a lazy hand through my hair while reading a book.

"Morning." She greets, never tearing her eyes from the page.

"Hi." I stretch, shuffling upright and scanning the small space through hazy eyes.

"We're not allowed to leave." She explains before I can ask why we we're still locked down despite restless movement in the nearby cells. "Something to do with yesterday."

"Oh." I hum, not too bothered by the change in routine. I am generally happiest when no one can get to me anyway. "So, what do we do?"

"Wait for instructions." She declares, putting her book aside and turning her attention to me for the first time. Contrary to her calm demeanour, her eyes are nervous, shifting frenetically from my face to the bars and back again. "Sara…" she begins, licking her lips anxiously.

Just when I begin to think she isn't going to speak again, she darts forward and presses a chaste kiss to my lips.

"Thank you." She murmurs shyly, before clambering over me and dropping onto the floor.

X x x

Evidently the damage from the earthquake and ensuing riot was enough to close down the canteen for repairs.

As such, we are to remain in our cells all day. Not that either of us particularly cares.

You would think that after last night, being confined in close quarters with only each other for company would be awkward; but it was oddly comfortable.

We both know what last night was about and neither of us particularly wants to talk about it. Catherine was scared and in desperate need of comfort. I had provided what she needed, and now we can move on.

The bars open with a loud rattle and two trays are shoved inside before the gates come down again.

Apparently, breakfast is served.

We each pick up a tray and settle on the lower bunk to eat in companionable silence.

The gruel aside; it is contented, almost nice.

X x x

"Hey Cath?" I query, tilting my head to the side as I continue my work.

"Hmm?" She replies distractedly from the other end of the bottom bunk, her nose still firmly rooted in her book.

"Were you in here last Christmas?"

"No." She answers instantly. "Last Christmas I was sleeping on an old mattress on the floor and snorting cocaine through rolled up lottery tickets."

"Oh." That had not been the answer I was expecting and there isn't much else I can offer to that statement. _  
_

She lifts her eyes, flashing me a half-smile before putting her book aside and leaning forward, pulling her legs up to her chest and folding her arms across them.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

"Why'd you ask?"

"I don't know." She shrugs bashfully. "Christmas is coming up, I guess I'm just curious to know what it's like in here."

The innocent look of hope in her eyes almost makes me want to hug her, but I can't help but laugh.

"Honey, I don't think Santa visits the bad girls in here."

She drops her eyes back to her drawing, toying with the corner of the page sadly.

"I've never had a proper Christmas." She says at last. "This year was meant to be different."

Aside from the initial comments in her first couple of days, Sara hasn't spoken of her family. I have avoided pressing the issue, but if she is in a sharing mood I certainly am not going to miss an opportunity.

"How so?" I ask softly, inching carefully closer.

"I was saving up to visit my grandmother." She swallows hard, looking anywhere but at me. "She always used to make such a big deal of Christmas. I thought if I could save enough money to visit her, maybe we could do the house up like she used to when I was little. The tree, the decorations ... everything."

I watch her surreptitiously wipe away a stray tear and feel my heart twist in my chest. I reach out, gripping her hand like I had last night.

"There's always next year." I point out gently, although I'm sure it is of little comfort to her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi guys, I know this is much shorter but I was very aware that I haven't updated in a few days and wanted to give you something to chew on :) Hope you like it; hopefully there'll be more very soon!**

**x x x x**

**Cath's POV**

For the third night in a row I am awoken to the pitiful sound of whimpering.

With a heavy sigh I roll off the bed, landing with a soft thud beside her.

"Sara?" I whine, nudging her gently in the shoulder. When she continues to cry despite my efforts I drop my hands to my sides tiredly, resigning myself to another night of this heartbreaking noise. I flip her covers back and shuffle in, looping my arms tightly around her middle as I contort myself into a comfortable position.

She struggles at first, as always, but eventually her breathing slows and her body relaxes against my own. I pull her closer, tucking her head under my chin.

I don't know what's suddenly sparked her night terrors. For the first couple of weeks she was fine and all of a sudden she began having bad dreams. They don't happen every night and some are worse than others, but they always end the same. Me, in her bed, for the duration of the night.

She never wakes up, just whimpers and shuffles helplessly against her invisible attackers. Occasionally she will mumble something, but I never manage to work out what it is she's trying to say.

I feel her release a breath against my neck and she wriggles in my arms for a moment before settling contentedly against my chest. I can feel my own heartbeat resounding through her slender frame as I grip her tightly.

Needless to say, it is not the most comfortable of beds to try and sleep two people in, but we make it work. We don't really have a choice, it is the only way either of us can get any rest.

I yawn, flexing my feet before curling my legs up protectively around her until she is cocooned in my embrace.

Like always, in the morning I will try to wake up first and move back to my own bed before she realises what has happened. On a few occasions she has beaten me to it, or I've woken her up trying to sneak out from under the covers. She just blinks at me in confusion for a few seconds before mumbling an awkward apology and clambering out of bed in what I can only assume to be a feeble attempt to put more distance between us.

I have tried to tease some information from her regarding the matter but she always clams up or changes the subject; until in the end I drop the questions and settle for comforting her when the inevitable happens again.

I understand that she's embarrassed about it; I just wish I knew what it is that is haunting her subconscious every night.

"I wish you would talk to me." I whisper sleepily, pressing a kiss into her hair before falling back into a pit of oblivion; perchance, not to dream.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I realise what has happened before I even open my eyes. I know from the feel of her arms tightly wound around my waist and the soft breath blowing flyaway wisps of my hair across the pillow.

There are only two reasons I wake up in the same bed as Catherine, the first of which has only happened a small handful of times - not including last night, which can only mean that I had another nightmare.

Inwardly, I groan, scrunching my eyes tightly shut.

I never remember my dreams, but I always know what they are about and it wouldn't surprise me if Catherine hasn't figured it out, too.

She has made valiant efforts to talk to me about it but that is an area of my life that I would rather leave outside these cold stone walls.

In truth, I'm surprised that she is still making an effort with me. Most people get fed up of trying to help the third or fourth time I lash out in my sleep as they attempt to wake me; but apparently this woman is more persistent than I initially gave her credit for.

Not that that should really surprise me, I suppose. She is by far the most resilient person I have ever met. A part of me really wants to trust her with my secrets, but trust is not something that has ever come easy to me. I think a part of her understands that; and despite her blunt nature, it is clear that she has a few skeletons of her own.

The more time I spend with her – and let's face it, time is all we have in here – the more my curiosity is peaked. She's an intriguing enigma of a woman; fierce and frightened all at the same time.

And despite all of my well-honed instincts telling me not to get too close, I find myself wondering more and more how much my own secrets are worth, if they might get me closer to finding out what she is so scared of.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi guys**

**I am going away for the weekend and will be sans internet until Monday, but I will still have my laptop so hopefully I'll get some chapters typed up ready for next week **** This one is a little longer to make up for the wait. **

**Thanks for sticking with this!**

**x x x x**

**Cath's POV**

"Ow." I grumble, curling my hand back under the covers and cradling it protectively against my chest. This wis my first reminder that I am in Sara's bed – I never smack my hand on the sink when I stretch out on my own bed.

The second clue usually comes when I try to roll over and find myself held still by the young brunette's strong grip on me. This morning, however, there is no firm grasp clutching the front of my shirt and the space beside me is empty.

I shift, kicking out my legs in an attempt to free them from the tangle of blankets.

"Hi." The shy voice draws my attention to the other side of the cell, where Sara is leaning against the wall. She is already dressed and clearly waiting to be let out for breakfast. Her head is bowed, her dark waves shielding her face, but I can still see that she is staring at me from beneath her long lashes.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

"Hey." She replies, her voice still husky from sleep. She rolls over, arching her back like a cat beneath the covers before slowly sitting up and stretching.

I always find it intriguing to watch her when she's like this; just waking up and oblivious or uncaring to the fact that she's under scrutiny. It's when she looks her most vulnerable. Her blue eyes search the small space sleepily; as if she's still trying to place her surroundings, even after all these months.

Finally she stands up, stretches again and shuffles to the sink. Her pyjama bottoms are too long for her and trail across the dusty floor.

I have a somewhat regimented routine on a morning – not a difficult thing when your every action is monitored and limited to available supplies. Catherine, on the other hand, is much more chaotic. She spends the majority of the morning stumbling around the tiny cell in a bit of a daze.

I am so lost in my own thoughts that I don't even realise I have called her name until she turns to me, toothbrush in her mouth, and raises a questioning eyebrow.

I have no idea what I was actually intending to say, but what comes out surprises us both.

"Do you ever have bad dreams in here?"

She blinks at me for a moment, tapping her toothbrush thoughtfully on the edge of the sink before finally abandoning it there and walking carefully towards me; her head cocked to the side curiously.

For one gut-wrenching moment I panic that she's going to push me to explain what my nightmares are about.

"I don't dream anymore." She says at last, holding my gaze for a long few seconds before dropping her head and sloping to the small wardrobe to get dressed.

I continue to stare at her, not entirely sure how to take her emotionless confession.

Is she trying to say that she has lost all hope and reason to dream of a future beyond this place? Or has this hell merely sapped all subconscious inspiration from her life?

X x x

**Cath's POV**

I had nearly asked Sara outright what she was hiding, but something inside me chose to offer the honest answer instead. Although, judging by the look on her face, it appears only to have confused her.

Neither of us speaks for several minutes, though I can still feel her eyes following my every movement. The awkward silence is only broken by the sound of the guards descending from on high to unlock our cells.

Sara waits until they retreat again before sliding the bars open and moving to leave; but she pauses in the doorway, turning back towards me.

"Hey Cath?"

"Yeah?" I hum, keeping my back to her as I dress.

"Thanks."

The lone word is barely whispered but I hear it clear as day. I want to say something, to plead with her to let me help further, but the words just won't come.

And by the time I finally turn around, she has vanished.

X x x

It's raining again.

Sara had been telling me the other day about how she had spent one Christmas in New York and it had snowed so much that they couldn't even get the front door open.

Though I'm sure I have, I don't recall ever seeing snow. I have always wondered what it would be like to have the traditional 'white Christmas'. The concept had always struck me as little more than a romantic myth.

Sara's eyes had lit up when she was talking about New York. It was the most alive I have ever seen her. She had started to tell me that one day she was going to go to Harvard; that that's how she had gotten into working the streets – to save money for college.

But then she had stopped talking, and the spark in her eyes faded. I realised that she had probably just had the same thought that had struck me at the start of this conversation – the thought I had determinedly been keeping to myself: would an Ivy League college accept an ex-con as a student?

After that day, she hasn't spoken very much.

I release a sigh, snapping out of my reverie. The sound of the rain beating against the wall has always had somewhat a hypnotic effect on me.

I turn back to face the rest of the cell. Sara is doing what she usually does on these long, dull afternoons: drawing.

"Hey Sara?" I drawl, ambling over and perching on the edge of her bed.

"Hmm?"

"You know you said that you were going to stay with your grandmother this Christmas?"

She pauses, her pen hovering over the paper briefly.

"Yeah?" She agrees tentatively at last.

"What's she like?"

"Grams?" Sara frowns, going back to her doodling. "She's … stubborn. Fierce." A wistful smile dances across her lips as she cocks her head to the side. "She's the only person in my family I really like."

"You never talk about your family." I point out softly, hoping to keep the conversation going, if for no other reason than to kill some time.

To my surprise, her answer comes swift and sharp.

"Neither do you."

A surprised laugh bubbles out of me.

"Touché." I hum, nodding at her. I settle myself against the bedpost, folding my hands in my lap and clearing my throat. "Alright, my mom hasn't spoken to me since I left home at 17 and ran off with a guy six years older than me. I have one sister – younger – who is like Mary Poppins on heat she's so damn perfect." I pause, licking my lips. "Let's see, my father abandoned me before I was born. I was born in Montana but I've lived in Las Vegas most of my life. I went to three different middle schools because my mom moved around so much. My stepfather was a collosal jackass and we used to visit my aunt in Bozeman every summer."

Somewhere in the middle of my disorganised little tirade, Sara had stopped drawing and is now blinking at me in bemusement.

"Your turn." I gesture to her with a small smile.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I feel my face flush and I drop my gaze into my lap, shaking my head.

I hear her emit a sigh and hold my breath, waiting for her to release her frustration at my caginess. I want desperately to explain but past attempts had usually backfired on me and I'm not ready to deal with that again. To my surprise, however, she does quite the opposite of what I am anticipating.

She reaches out and places a warm hand over my own.

"You know, I never said thank you."

The change in topic throws me and I whip my head back up.

"For what?"

"For everything." She shrugs, casting her eyes lazily around the room, a telltale sign of her nerves. "For what you do for me."

I blush again, nodding slowly.

"Don't mention it." I murmur weakly.

She flicks her eyes back to my face and squeezes my hand gently.

"It means a lot."

An odd silence falls between us and we both avert our eyes bashfully. I'm not even sure what just happened between us, but there's an unfamiliar atmosphere settling in the room now.

Suddenly she leans forwards, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"Maybe one day I can repay the favour."

The offer catches me off guard and I choke out a nervous laugh.

"I think I'm okay. No offence." I try to lighten the mood, but she just smiles knowingly at me.

"You haven't been in here that long yet." She points out. "Just wait until you can't remember what it feels like."

Apparently deciding that the conversation has turned awkward enough, she climbs onto her bed and lies down, staring at the ceiling. I try to refocus on my drawing but her words won't let me concentrate.

I am curious as to what _it_ is. Aside from the obvious, I can't help but feel there is a deeper meaning to her words.

Though I don't press it, I feel safe in the knowledge that I'm not going to need her favours anytime soon. Sex has only ever left me feeling cold and used.

Maybe one day I will ask Catherine what it is that she misses so much about it, since clearly my experiences are somewhat tainted.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

The fading sounds of the guards' footsteps leave our cell in a peaceful darkness.

Sara and I didn't speak much over dinner and what little we did say to each other was mainly focused on the new tables – courtesy of the state after our earthquake-induced riot destroyed the last ones – and the bad food.

I roll over, letting my hand hang off the edge of the bed. I can hear Sara shuffling beneath me so I know that she is still awake.

I am still worried about her state of mind, despite her quiet assurance that she is okay when I asked if she wanted to talk before we went to bed.

I desperately want to help her but she just won't open up to me. I gave her a reprieve this afternoon, taking the heat off her when she clearly didn't want to talk about her family. But I am still eager to find out what is so troubling about her history.

The most irritating thing about it is the fact that she is happy to go to any lengths to help me but she simply won't allow me to help her.

Then again, perhaps that is the answer I'm looking for.

X x x

She doesn't even question it when I whisper her name softly in the darkness. She just climbs out of her bed and hops up to mine, shuffling under the covers.

Without hesitating, she slips her warm hands under my shirt, but I quickly still her movements.

"No." I murmur. "Not tonight."

Even in the dim light I can see the confusion clouding her features. It is cute, in a strange sort of way.

"Okay." She frowns, clearly not following.

"I just want company." I lie, tugging her gently closer. Understanding the request, she lies down beside me and we curl ourselves into a neat interlocked little ball.

Okay so it isn't a complete lie, I'm by no means averse to having someone to hold on these cold nights. But that isn't the real reason I have invited her up here tonight.

I hear her breathing begin to slow and just when I think I have gotten away with it, she murmurs sleepily against my neck.

"I know your game, Cat." I cock an eyebrow, even though she can't see me. "Thanks."

I smile, holding her a little closer to my body.

"You're welcome." I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead. To my surprise – albeit not an entirely unwelcome surprise – she responds in kind by peppering a gentle kiss against my neck before snuggling down to sleep.

I can't explain what it was about that simple action, but it clarifies something that has been bothering me since the first night I called Sara up here. All of a sudden I can put a name to the feelings stirred in me every time the girl touches me. It's the way she looks at me, the way her words of comfort are soft but not condescending. It's the way she treats me.

The thing that makes Sara different to everyone else I have ever been with? Sara respects me.


	15. Chapter 15

**Internets back! :)  
**

**With regards to some of the attitudes referenced in this chapter, I should point out again that this is set in the eighties when responses to the LGBT community were very different.  
**

**Hope you enjoy :)  
**

**x x x x**

**Cath's POV**

I didn't get much sleep last night, although it was not a particularly uncomfortable night. My mind simply wouldn't switch off.

My realisation that Sara sees me as more than merely an object, a sex toy to be used and thrown away, left me reeling.

The fact that she will go to such lengths for me when she gets nothing from it is puzzling in itself; although ordinarily, taking her chosen career into account, this wouldn't be too surprising. But it is blatantly obvious from her reaction to my offer that Sara is not gay and has never slept with a woman until she got dropped into this hellhole.

So, what makes me so special?

I can honestly say that I have never even considered dating a woman, and if I hadn't ended up in here the thought would probably never have crossed my mind. But there is no denying that I miss the comfort of being in a relationship.

I know it happens in prisons – hell, I have seen it happen. Prison is a very lonely place and it's far from uncommon for gender lines to be crossed in search of a little affection.

But there is a difference between sex and a relationship. On the inside, of course, that difference is negligible since 'dates' consist of a walk to the end of the courtyard and back.

After spending most of the night pondering this, I have come to the conclusion that it is not so much my desire to begin a proper relationship with this girl that is troubling me; it's the thought of what might happen after prison. Will I still feel comfortable going back to dating men or will I be turned gay for life?

It's one thing to date a woman when you're encased in a stone box with only women for company. But in the outside world, it's a very different game. If I were to take that leap, will I be resigning myself to a life of seclusion and intolerance?

All of this is redundant of course, since Sara doesn't appear to have any desire for a relationship with me or anyone else in here.

But that still doesn't answer my initial question of why she is willing to sleep with me.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I'm not sure whether it is leftover tension from last night's talk or whether she is a mind-reader and knows what has been going through my head, but Catherine has been acting very strange around me today.

It's like she knows there's something I want to ask her.

I thought at first that I was imagining it, until I went to wash my hands and incidentally brushed her arm as I reached for the soap. Her first reaction was to jump as if she'd been burned; but then she turned around, wrapped one arm around my stomach and kissed my cheek before ambling across the cell to get dressed.

Initially, I chalked it up to the fact that she had just woken up and wasn't thinking straight. But that didn't explain why she was being exceptionally nice to me. Unusually nice, in fact.

I am struck again by this peculiar turn in nature when she joins me on my bed and places a warm hand on my knee.

"Not drawing today?" She inquires lightly.

"I've run out of paper." I state miserably, casting a wistful look at my completed notebook. "And my pen's stopped working."

"Oh dear." The lack of enthusiasm in her voice at my plight is not particularly surprising, but for what must be the tenth time today she moves her hand to my shoulder and squeezes it gently for no reason at all.

I frown at the action, although she remains oblivious to my growing confusion as she ambles lazily over to the bars and peers into the hallway. It is mid-afternoon and we are free to wander but we both chose to remain inside today. In truth, I think we both feel safer in our own little box.

Watching her idle movements closely, I consider biting the bullet. I have discovered in recent weeks that it is when Catherine is in moods like this that she is the most approachable. Perhaps her bizarre behaviour is her way of inviting me to open up.

"Catherine?" I ask, chewing on my lower lip nervously.

"Hmm?"

"What do you miss about sex?"

She freezes, turning slowly to face me with a wide-eyed look of confusion.

"I'm sorry?" She asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"You said that you miss it? What do you miss?" I press, sitting up a little straighter in an attempt to project more confidence into my question.

She continues to stare at me in unbridled bemusement until I start to squirm under her intense gaze. Eventually she walks slowly over to me and sits down again, opening and closing her mouth a few times before settling on a starting place.

"I'm not sure I understand the question." She begins. "Are we talking psychologically or the physical aspect?"

Her failed attempts to hide her amusement are less than encouraging but it is too late to back down now.

"I've just never seen the appeal in it." I shift, starting to wish that I had never broached this subject. "It's painful, it's degrading and I usually wake up hating myself for it."

She frowns, her blue eyes searching my face for a long moment before she speaks again.

"Honey, I don't know who you've been sleeping with but that's not how it's meant to be." She says, her voice unexpectedly soft.

"Oh." I squirm, feeling my cheeks flush. I'm not sure how to explain to her that my experiences – professional and otherwise – have probably been vastly different to hers, so I elect not to say anything.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

It's easy to forget that Sara is only seventeen. By all accounts, she's still a child.

But looking at her now, her eyes wide and filled with naïve confusion, it is all too apparent.

I know that I am hardly one to lecture her about the deeper meaning of sex. After all, most of my past liaisons were anything but romantic and tender.

But this girl clearly needs some guidance – if she didn't she wouldn't have ended up working street corners in the first place – and right now I'm all she's got.

"Sara, hon …" I pause, biting my lower lip as I consider what I am about to say. She cocks her head to the side curiously, awaiting whatever pearl of wisdom she thinks I can offer. When I can't think of anything suitable to say, I chose a different technique. "Come here."

I take her hand and drag her up onto my bunk. There, I encourage her to lie down on her back and I blanket her body with my own.

"Cath…" she begins, a distinctive tremor to her voice. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest, sending shivers down my spine.

"Shush." I place a finger over her lips, quickly replacing it with my own.

She responds instinctively to the kiss; after all it's something we have done before. She allows me entrance, although it's clear from her tentative behaviour that she is uncertain about where I am taking this.

Her kiss is sweet, as always. Like her touch, she seems almost scared to apply too much pressure – as if she could hurt me.

When I pull back she is watching me with wary eyes.

"How do you feel?" I ask her, watching the confusion mask her features again. Considering the topic of conversation, it's remarkable just how innocent she looks right now.

"I don't know." She replies blankly.

"Do you feel safe?" I rephrase.

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever felt this way with someone before?"

She pauses and I can see understanding fill her eyes.

"No." She whispers, looking away. I reach up a hand to brush her hair aside, but she shimmies out from beneath me and drops onto the floor.

Before I can call her back, she has already disappeared into the hallway.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

The drizzle soaks into my clothes quickly, but I barely feel the cold. Having grown up by the sea, I am used to the feel of damp fog seeping into my skin. It's a comfortable, familiar feeling; reminiscent of early morning walks and long chilly evenings. If I close my eyes and concentrate really hard, I can almost smell the salt in the air.

It's fairly quiet in the yard, aside from a few inmates milling about and a select group smoking in the corner. Cigarettes are technically contraband, but Cath had informed me that the guards are inclined to look the other way in return for certain favours. I have been smoking since my early teens but I don't need them enough to go to those lengths.

The girl who arrived here the day after me, who I now know to be called Brenda, is lurking in a corner by herself.

I have tried to reach out to her, to let her know that I understand her plight, but every attempt has been rebuffed until I eventually gave up altogether. On the plus side, she seems to be keeping Harper occupied.

I can't help wondering whether Catherine had been like that when she first arrived. Perhaps that is why she keeps to herself and doesn't socialise with other inmates. Apart from me, of course.

I'm sure she is confused by my behaviour and I can't blame her, but I needed to clear my head.

Her words made me realise something; and while I'm certain she knows this, I bet she doesn't know what it is.

I have never trusted anyone in my life. Not my parents, not my teachers. Not even the doctors who used to stitch me back together when I was injured.

But I trust Catherine Flynn.

I have known this woman for a matter of weeks. She's a drug-addicted stripper who took a wrong turn somewhere. She's a virtual stranger to me.

And yet I trust her more than I have ever trusted anyone. And she is the only person I have ever – with full consent – been intimate with. Granted, it's always me servicing her needs, but intimacy is still intimacy.

So why do I let her near me and no one else?

Despite every instinct pushing the thought aside, I find myself recalling her offer to mind.

"_Maybe one day I can repay the favour."_

Do I want that?

The safe, defensive part of me is saying no, of course not. But for some reason I find myself curious as to what it would be like. And the more I think about it the more I am inclined to take a chance.

After all, it wouldn't be the first time she's touched me.

A sharp whistle snaps me back to my sad reality and I turn to find several guards beckoning everyone inside. The drizzle has turned into a heavy rainstorm and has soaked me through to the bone. I hadn't even noticed.

I slope back inside, dripping my way through the winding corridors until I make it back to my cell.

To my surprise it is empty. Catherine must be in the canteen – it is nearly dinner time, after all. Making the most of my moment of privacy, I peel off my sopping wet clothes and slip into something dry. The coarse fabric has been playing hell with my sensitive skin, but I'm starting to build up a resistance to it.

Shaking my wet hair out with a miserable pout, I reach down to grab my towel from earlier, which is still in a heap on my bed. Instead, sitting inoffensively on my pillow, I find a set of pens and a brand new notepad.


	16. Chapter 16

**Feeling ill **** :( So, thought I'd post to make you guys feel better haha. **

**Hope you like it!**

**x x x x**

**Cath's POV**

"_Thank you_." I read with a small smile.

The single leaf of paper was lying on my pillow when I returned; the delicately written words decorated by a border of tiny flowers.

A long-stemmed rose trailed up the edge of the paper, and one lone petal was falling from it to form the letter 'o'.

It isn't technically the day that we are allowed to the shop, but I had managed to sweet-talk one of the more kind-hearted guards into stealing me a notebook and set of pens from the storeroom. He will undoubtably expect something in return, but at least it will keep Sara content for a while.

Speaking of my young cellmate, she's fast asleep; face down in her brand new notebook.

I smile, crouching down beside her.

"Poor little Sara." I sigh, brushing her hair aside. She doesn't stir so I carefully try to extract the notepad from her fiercely protective grip. After a little gentle persuasion she relents control and I manage to manoeuvre her into a more comfortable position. She curls up, murmuring something incomprehensible before settling down again.

"Good girl." I beam, pressing a kiss to her temple. I move to put the book on top of her completed one when a devious thought strikes me.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I have never been particularly good at expressing my emotions, but hopefully Catherine will understand from my little doodle that I truly am grateful for the gesture.

I'm not sure why she did it, I certainly hope that she isn't feeling guilty; but I imagine that it has something to do with my reaction to her attempts to help me.

I must have fallen asleep because I don't recall her coming back in, yet when I finally blink my eyes open and stretch my sore muscles she's sat at the end of my bed with a book propped up against her legs.

"Hi." I groan, shifting uncomfortably until I am slouched against the bedpost.

"Hey there sleeping beauty." She replies absently, carefully turning the page.

Upon further inspection, she's not reading. She's flicking through my completed notebook. My instinctive defences instantly kick in but I manage to restrain myself from pouncing on her. Instead, my hand twitches at my side involuntarily.

"These are very good." She comments at last, putting it aside. "Dark, but good."

"I draw what I'm thinking." I shrug bashfully, eyeing the pad. "I don't have happy thoughts very often."

"I can tell." She nods, regarding me cautiously. I pull my legs up to my chest, as if trying to protect myself from her intense stare.

"I don't usually let anyone touch my work."

"I know." She retorts to my confession coolly. "That's why I waited until you were asleep."

I'm a tad stunned by her blunt admittance and I can't argue with her logic so I settle for not saying anything.

I think she must be waiting for me to reply, because she leans closer.

"Sara, hon, about earlier…"

"No, it's okay." I hold my hands up, snapping my gaze from my lap to meet her own. "I … I'm sorry for running off."

"No." She frowns, darting out to grab my hand before I can retract it from her reach. "You don't have anything to apologise for."

I drop my gaze again, still struggling for words.

I can feel her eyes on me, waiting for me to speak again. When I do, I don't think it's something either of us expected me to say.

"My foster father raped me."

X x x

**Cath's POV**

The statement hangs between us like a lit firework, just waiting to explode.

I stand up slowly, moving to where she is curled against her pillow. Without saying a word, I sit down as close as I can without sitting _on_ her and pick up her hand again.

"Jonathon wasn't the first." She continues, swallowing hard. "But he was the first one that I stood up to."

"How?" I ask when she doesn't speak again, desperate not to lose her to her own thoughts; as has happened on so many occasions like this. "How did you stand up to him?"

"I punched him." There is a hint of pride in her trembling voice that almost makes me smile. "That's why they threw me out – I think they were scared I might tell someone."

"Can they do that?" I scowl. Surely there must be rules against foster carers booting children onto the street.

"Apparently." She shrugs, seemingly nonplussed by the callous attitude of her guardians. On the other hand, I suppose living on the streets can't have been much worse than that house.

"Social services shouldn't let things like that happen." I spit, shaking my head in disgust. "You're just a kid!"

She turns her watery eyes to me, desperation burning behind the pretty irises and all my anger subsides in place of concern.

"I want you to help me." She whispers. "I want you to show me how it's supposed to be."

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Instead, I settle for a weak nod.

She leans forward, catching me off guard as she kisses my lips softly. A shy thanks, I guess.

"Not now." I manage to enunciate. "Tonight. When it's quiet."

She seems to think about this for a moment before agreeing.

I reach out, cupping her pink-tinted cheek in my hand.

"You're going to be okay." I assure her. "I promise."

X x x

I can tell she's anxious. It's quite cute to watch her pacing in small circles around the room, pausing only to look at me and chew on her lower lip before continuing her repetitive pattern.

She thinks I can't see her. She thinks I'm reading but the truth is I haven't taken in a word of this book since she first started wandering.

"Will you pack that in, you're making me dizzy." I state at last. She stops, hanging her head.

"Sorry." She mumbles. "I'm just nervous."

I put my book aside and sit up straight.

"We don't have to do anything, you know." I try to keep my voice light, although I'm not sure it works. "It's entirely your choice."

"I know." She smiles shyly. "I want to."

I return the gesture, hopping down to place my hands on her arms and rubbing small comforting circles there with the pad of my thumb.

"Good." I state. "Why don't you get changed before lockdown and we can just talk for a while?"

"Okay." She agrees tentatively, stepping out of my grip in order to undress.

I want to take things slow with her, since she's clearly terrified about this. I don't know why, I'm not going to do anything she's not comfortable with. But I guess her past experiences have tainted her view of intimacy somewhat.

Hopefully I can change that.

X x x

"Come here, babe." I beckon, waiting for her to hop up. She shuffles for a moment, folding her legs beneath her.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs. "I know this probably seems ridiculous to you."

"No, it doesn't." I assure her. I am lounging comfortably across my propped-up pillow and I reach out, gripping her arm lightly. "Come here."

She allows me to pull her down, until she is curled up half-beneath my body. My right arm is wrapped underneath her, stroking her shoulder gently.

"Tell me about Harvard." I state after a moment of silence.

"What?" She looks up me in perplexity.

"Harvard. You want to go there, right? Tell me about it."

"Okay." She frowns, racking her brain for something to say.

I don't have the slightest interest in Ivy League colleges, but I want to get her to relax and this is the only topic she has ever seemed truly happy discussing.

I would have asked about her childhood, but clearly that would have the opposite effect.

I haven't heard a word she's said, but she doesn't seem to have noticed as she is getting more and more animated in her spiel.

That is, until she feels my lips on her neck. She stills, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"Keep talking." I mumble, moving my lips along her jaw line and up to her ear.

She does, although it's much more stunted and absent-minded than before.

"Uh, Cath." She half-asks half-moans when I slide one hand under her shirt.

"Shush." I press a finger to her lips, changing position until she's entirely cocooned by me. "Trust me."

I can feel her slender body trembling beneath my hands but she nods her consent and I continued to pepper gentle kisses on her face and the corner of her lips.

She begins to respond, seeking out my mouth with her own.

"Good girl." I murmur into the kiss. She moves and suddenly her hands appear on my waist.

To my surprise, they start to wander down my back and beneath my waistline. I pull back abruptly, reaching behind me to grip her wrist.

"My turn tonight, remember?" I remind her, placing her hands firmly above her head.

She nods, a small smile twitching at her lips.

"Sorry, force of habit." She shrugs as best she can in her restrained position. I peck her lips again and slide down her body. She seems slightly startled at my sudden movement south but lets me carry on anyway, voluntarily interlocking her wrists through the bars of the bed in order to prevent them straying again.

I inch her shirt up, peppering kisses across her thin stomach. Her skin reacts to my touch, clearly tickled by my ministrations. I hook my fingers around her waistline but pause.

"Sara?" I whisper, glancing up at her.

"Uh huh?" she breathes. Her head is tipped back, her eyes closed. In pleasure or fear, I'm not quite sure anymore.

"If you want me to stop, just say the word."

She looks down at me, our eyes meeting in the dim light. Her breathing is ragged and her skin is on fire beneath my fingertips, but her voice is steady as a rock.

"I don't want you to stop."


	17. Chapter 17

**Cath's POV**

"Cath?"

The inquiring voice takes me by surprise. It is the first that either of us has spoken.

"Hmm?"

"I don't know where we go from here."

I shift, rolling over so I am properly facing her.

"Me neither, honey." I whisper, fumbling under the covers for her hand and bringing it up to my lips. "We don't have to do anything."

"I know." She mumbles, her gaze fixated on the stained and cracked ceiling above us.

"Or," I continue, shuffling closer and laying a warm hand over her steady heartbeat. "We can carry on and see what happens?"

She turns to me with an unreadable expression and for a long moment I think I've pushed her too far, when finally her lips turn into a small smile.

"Yeah." She says at last.

I return the look, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"_So_?" I push gently when it appears she isn't going to speak again. She looks at me in confusion, an adorably endearing picture.

"So what?"

I nudge her pointedly beneath the covers.

"_So_, how was it?"

Her cheeks flame and she rolls into me, tucking herself protectively into a ball beneath my chin

I can't help but laugh at her shyness as I wrap my arms around her, nestling my face into her soft curls.

"Amazing." I hear her mumble against my chest. "Different. Indescribable."

"I'd settle for amazing." I joke, cuddling her as close as I can. She's unexpectedly cold, despite the blanket draped across us, so I start rubbing circles on her back in an attempt to warm her up a little.

I have to admit, I surprised even myself. I wasn't expecting to get as much personal pleasure from it as I did. A part of me had been scared that it would bring up unforgettable memories of her first night here; but in reality, it had been nice. No, not nice … comfortable.

Even now, as her breathing starts to even out and she stops wriggling, she seems to fit perfectly in my arms; coiling herself around my body in an awkward but unusually natural position.

"We'll figure it out." I mumble, dropping another kiss into her hair. "There's plenty of time."

As the words leave my lips, I hear the lies in them and feel my heart constrict a little.

Time is the one thing we're never short of in here.

But my time is running out.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I expected it to be awkward when we woke up, but I feel oddly relaxed as I blink my eyes open.

Catherine is still asleep; so, carefully freeing myself from her grip without disturbing her, I opt to make the most of the opportunity and just watch her for a while.

She's very pretty. Possibly one of the prettiest people I have ever met. Her hair shimmers, turning different colours under the light and her blue eyes almost appear to change shade with the changes of her mood.

You can see the damage she has inflicted on herself over the years. Her nose is slightly caved inwards and her voice is husky from years of cocaine abuse. But all of these things just seem to add to her flawed perfection.

I never thought I would be having these feelings for another woman. Then again, I never thought I would end up in prison.

In my short time here I have heard the term 'gay for the stay' batted around a fair bit and until now I hadn't understood the allure in sleeping with a woman just for the physical contact.

But now, after a single night of passion with Catherine, I do understand. The feel of another person's hands on my skin had never felt so good, so … right. I hadn't felt scared, or used, or any of the other horrible feelings that usually flood my system during sex. And now, as I watch her peacefully sleeping beside me, I don't feel guilt or shame, just comfort.

"Morning." She mumbles, alerting me to her conscious presence.

"Hey." I smile. "How long have you been awake?"

"How long have you been staring at me?" She counters, stifling a yawn.

I grin, busted.

She struggles to sit up, attempting feebly to do something with her hair before giving up and letting it fall in haphazard waves.

I reach up, stroking it lightly to put some of it back in place. She barely seems to notice as she casts a sleepy glance around the room.

"Have we missed breakfast?" She inquires, noting that the cells are unlocked and inmates are already milling around.

"Probably." I shrug. I vaguely recall hearing the guards come past but in my sleep-induced state I hadn't taken much notice.

"Never mind." She stretches. "I'm not that hungry anyway."

She leans in, nuzzling my face affectionately for a few seconds, peppering soft kisses on my cheek, before climbing over me and dropping to the floor out of my line of sight.

My skin still tingles where her lips last touched me, but it's not an unpleasant sensation.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

There is an odd sort of atmosphere between the two of us since last night. More on my part then hers, admittedly.

I am unsettled by the onslaught of feelings for the young girl. I have wanted to take care of her since she arrived, but I never really expected to fall for her. And now I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.

When I was with Eddie, I came to a point where I had to make a choice: I could stay with him and risk going to prison, or I could walk away and be a free woman on my own.

At the time I had chosen a relationship over freedom. And once again I found myself with the same choice.

Only this time, the decision has already been made for me.

I needed some time to think, so I left Sara contentedly scribbling in her book and went for a walk.

Having skipped breakfast, I am hungry and conveniently find myself in the dining hall as the first sitting of dinner is being doled out. I briefly consider going to find her, but ultimately decide that she will come down in her own time. I'd rather be alone right now, anyway.

I help myself to a tray and allow the kitchen worker to heap a mountain of something less-than-appetising on it.

Seeking out a seat in a quiet corner, I poke at the sludge with a fork for a moment before scooping some of it up. It appears to be some sort of stew.

I am about to risk taking a bite when a young spiky-haired inmate that I know as Laura sidles up to my table and plants her hands in front of me.

"Your new plaything is quite the little fighter." She states with a wry smile. "Very feisty."

I freeze, lifting my eyes slowly to hers.

"What?" The word sounds fearful even to my own ears.

She just grins, dipping one finger into my food and seductively licking it off before sashaying away, leaving me to fill in the blanks on my own.

Without hesitating another second, I am out of the seat so fast I manage to upturn my tray in the process.

One of the guards hollers something abusive at me but I don't stop, charging through the crowd of people as I fight my way upstairs and down the winding corridor; the same thought repeating itself in my mind like a broken record:

This can't be happening again. Not now.

X x x

I don't understand how it could have happened. I was only gone for half an hour.

When I arrive back, stumbling inelegantly through the door, most of the crowd has already dispersed. A few stragglers remain, but most of them are smart enough to get the hell out of dodge when I come flying in.

Harper is standing in the middle of the room, re-tying the cord on her pants.

And at her feet, curled into a tiny, helpless ball, is my Sara.

Even from here I can see that she is bleeding from several wounds.

Without sparing anyone a second glance, I dart across the room and land beside her, stroking her hair gently. She flinches at the contact, a pained squeak escaping her bruised throat.

I look up, my eyes burning as they latch onto Harper's smirking face.

"What have you done to her?"

She continues to grin manically at me, dragging the toe of her boot up Sara's leg.

"Don't worry, I didn't tear her up too bad for you." She hisses.

"Get out." My voice is dangerously low, but she just laughs callously. When she doesn't make any effort to move, I stand up. Even at my full height, she massively overshadows me but I feel ten feet tall right now as my possessive side takes control. "Get. Out."

With a final chuckle to herself she turns to leave, pausing in the doorway of the cell to throw one final, heart-wrenching comment at me.

"Don't forget Goldilocks, you're up for parole next week." She croons. "Who's going to protect her then?"

My whole body stiffens at her words, my blood running cold as it hits me that everything I have feared would happen is coming true.

As soon as she is out of sight, I drop back to my knees, sliding down behind Sara until my head is resting on her hip. I stroke her hair gently, threading my fingers through the gentle ringlets.

"It's okay baby, I'm here now. You're okay - I'll protect you." I whisper gently.

I'm not sure whether she can hear me or not, but I continue to utter the soothing words until I feel her shaking subside.

Standing up, I carefully pick her up beneath her arms and practically carry her to the bed.

She puts up no fight, allowing me to undress her. Blood-stained bruises cover about half of her slender body. I resist the urge to touch her too much, knowing that she may not want physical comfort right now. Retrieving a bowl of warm water from the sink and a clean cloth, I carefully tend to her wounds to the best of my ability. To my relief, her injuries all appear to have been inflicted by fists and shoes. Judging by the amount of blood, I had feared that Harper had brought a weapon to the fight.

It wouldn't be the first time, after all. I still carried the scars as proof of that.

She is watching my every move, her dark eyes wary and unreadable. However, she doesn't shy away or attempt to resist my touch. I choose to believe it is because she doesn't want to, not because she can't.

Once her injuries are treated as best I can manage, I wrap her tightly in a blanket. I elect to leave her undressed for now, curling up beside her and using my own body heat to keep her warm instead. Slipping my hands inside the blanket, I hold her impossibly close as silent tears finally start to make their way down her pale, stone-cold cheeks.

I kiss her bruised forehead, then her split lips. She winces, turning her head away from me; in embarrassment or shame, I am not quite sure. Perhaps resentment for letting this happen to her.

"It's okay now." I repeat softly. "I've got you. No one's going to hurt you again."

As I rock her gently, I can't help but consider the irony of my predicament.

I have spent the last nine months waiting for my parole date to arrive.

And now it's here, I find that the only thing I really care about anymore resides inside these stone cold walls.


	18. Chapter 18

**Lots of unanswered questions from the last two chapters, but I promise answers will come soon :) **

**Hope you guys are still enjoying this! Thanks for all the reviews :D**

**X X X X**

**Sara's POV**

"I cannot believe you didn't tell me."

"How could I?" She throws her hands up. "Sara, I don't want to leave you in here any more than you want me to go, but…"

"It's not that." I interrupt before I even realise I'm doing it. A look of hurt flashes through her eyes and I swallow hard, dropping onto my bed. "Catherine, why did you let me get so close to you if you knew your parole was coming up?"

I am aware of how selfish I must sound, but right now I don't really care. I would rather have lived with a distance between us for several months than to let my guard down only to have her ripped away from me after a matter of weeks.

"I don't know." She shrugs, throwing her hands up again. "I like you. I wanted to get to know you." She joins me on the bed and interlocks our hands together loosely. "I wanted to help you."

"You … you did." I manage to say, turning my head away. "It's just …"

When I trail off, she places one finger under my chin and lifts it gently.

"I've never trusted anyone before. And I trust you." I admit shyly. "And now I'm never going to see you again and that hurts."

"Who says you'll never see me again?" She challenges, somewhat affronted.

I scoff, sending a sceptical glance in her direction.

"What? Are you really going to come and visit me?"

"Sure." She shrugs nonchalantly.

"No you won't." I counter firmly. "You're going to go out, move back home with your family and start to rebuild your life." I sigh miserably. "And I really hope you do."

She smiles sadly, tears building in her blue eyes.

"Sara …"

"No." I state, leaning forwards to peck her lips. The action causes me to wince and she smiles apologetically, reaching up to cup my bruised face.

"I love you." She whispers.

For a moment I think I've misheard her, when she leans closer and kisses my cheek, letting her lips linger for a moment longer than necessary.

"I'm going to miss you." I murmur, dropping my gaze.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

Her quiet confession isn't exactly the response I was hoping for, but it's a start and it still makes me smile.

"I know." I reply, pulling her against me into a tight hug. Her body is still tender from the injuries inflicted on her yesterday, but she allows me to cling to her a little longer.

A heavy weight settles on my heart. I have never felt as close to her as I do right now, but it is a bittersweet feeling because we both know that this is probably the last time we will share a moment like this.

Making the most of it while we can, we just lay together for a while on her bed. She's tucked herself beneath my chin and I'm dragging a hand through her hair, just enjoying the quiet together before everything we've built up falls apart around us.

Neither of us dares to speak lest it ruin the moment, but after a while she stars to hum to herself as she doodles careless patterns above my heart.

A creak from behind catches my attention and I tilt my head back to see the corridor. It's fairly dim but I spot a shadow moving outside.

"Stay here." I mumble to Sara, placing a hand on her chest. Propping herself up on her elbows, she follows my movements with her eyes as I get up to check. I can't see anyone in the shadowy hall so after a moment of waiting I slope back to the bed and manoeuvre us into our previous position.

"Probably nothing." I assure her, settling back against the cushions. She wriggles into my arms again, releasing a contented breath.

"This sucks." She says at last. I laugh, unable to disagree with her sentiment.

Out of everything that has happened in my life to date, this probably sucks the most.

X x x

After breakfast, with the events of the last two days playing heavily on my mind, I find myself pacing in small circles in the yard.

It is here where the object of my concern corners me.

"So, how's the girlfriend this morning?" Harper asks with a manic grin. "You have told her your good news, I assume?"

I narrow my eyes, this morning and the suspicious noise from the hallway flashing back to memory.

Taking a daring step closer, I press a finger into her chest.

"If you lay one hand on her when I'm gone…"

"What?" She challenges, darting out a vice-like hand to grip my wrist. "What will you do?"

I hold her gaze steady for a long moment despite the pain shooting up and down my arm, before accepting that she's right. From the outside, there is nothing I can do to keep Sara safe.

She smirks, accepting the look on my face as defeat.

"Don't worry Goldilocks," she spits, releasing me with such force that I stumble backwards. "I'll be sure to keep her satisfied."

I watch her walk away, the knot in my chest tightening painfully.

I cannot protect Sara from the outside. And I cannot take her out with me.

So, I guess there's only one thing I can do.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I didn't think anything could happen in here that would surprise me anymore, but apparently I was wrong.

It is mid afternoon when all hell broke loose. For no reason, and without any warning, we are spontaneously locked down.

Inmates fly to the bars of their cells, peering into the hallway in a startling mix of bemusement and rage.

I join them, searching the limited section of hallway in my line of vision. From the hollers bouncing up and down off the walls, it is clear that no one knows what has happened; but whatever it is must be big to lock the cells when many inmates aren't even in them.

Including my cellmate.

It is a harsh bite of the reality to come.

I remain locked in my cage while Catherine is trapped on the outside, probably scared and alone.

X x x

I have been pacing for longer than I care to recall. I'm so close to pulling my hair out when the door to our cell opens and Catherine is forcibly walked back inside. Her head is ducked, her gaze glued to the floor.

"Thank God." I mumble, about to approach her when I realise that she is in handcuffs.

"Congratulations." The escort guard grunts, releasing her. "You get to bunk up for a few months longer."

His job done, he nudges her forward roughly and strops back out. The prison remains on lockdown so we're sealed back in again and he disappears down the hall to a chorus of abuse from the rest of the restrained inhabitants.

I turn my attention to Cath, who is still staring sheepishly at the ground between us.

"Cat," I call softly. "What did he mean by that?"

X x x

"You did what?"

I'm not sure I heard correctly. No, I can't have heard correctly.

"You got your parole revoked!"

"I didn't have a choice." She pleads, reaching out to me. "It was the only way I could stay in here."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?"

She looks away and suddenly it all falls into place. My heart seems to have lodged itself in my throat and I feel it constrict painfully.

"Oh no." I shake my head. "You did not do this for me?"

She flicks her eyes up, looking at me from beneath her long lashes.

"I had to." She mumbles bashfully.

"Catherine, it could be weeks, months even, before you build up enough good behaviour time to get paroled again." I point out. "Why they hell would you…"

"I need to stay with you." She blurts out. "I can't just leave you in here alone."

"But you've got 5 months of your sentence left! Catherine, I'll be out of here before you are!" I continue heatedly.

She purses her lips, a look which tells me she is already well aware of this.

"Good." She nods. "At least I'll know you're safer out there."

I can't decide whether she's missing my point entirely or she's just trying to wind me up.

"Catherine, what makes you think I can leave you in here?"

"Because you don't have a choice." She steps up to me, her voice suddenly firm and unyielding. "Sara, you're seventeen. I will not let you screw up your life for me, just because you made one stupid mistake." She reaches out to grip my wrist, driving her point home. She knows how much I hate being manhandled like this, so she will only do it when she is deathly serious. "You've still got a chance."

"So do you." I wrench my hand back and flick my hair angrily over my shoulder. "Catherine…"

"I survived in here before you came and I can survive a few weeks longer." She interrupts insistently. "You can't."

"I can protect myself." I dispute, straightening up.

"Really?" She cocks her head to the side, reaching up to lightly touch my wounds. "You call this protecting yourself?"

I flinch at the pain it causes, turning away. Weakness has never been a strong area of mine, something else that she knows.

"You're an idiot." I state bitterly. I can't see her, but I hear the frustrated scoff that escapes her lips.

"You know what, I did this for you!" She growls. "I could have left you to rot in here on your own!"

"Well maybe you should have, because I didn't ask you to save me Catherine!" I snarl back, and it's clear from her expression that she knows I'm not just talking about this particular event.

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" She states, effectively ending the conversation as she hauls herself onto her bed.

We each lay on our own mattresses for several long minutes in sullen silence before I speak again.

"This would be a lot more effective if one of us could storm out right about now."


	19. Chapter 19

**This chapter should answer some questions :)  
**

**x x x x** _  
_

**Sara's POV_  
_**

_I can feel her hands all over me. _

_I twist pitifully, trying to avoid her menacing gaze; but everywhere I look I see hollow, callous eyes staring back at me from blank faces. _

_I can't breathe. My whole body aches where her boot-clad feet have landed blow after blow until I stop fighting and lay still for her. _

_Weakened, injured and unable to physically defend myself any longer, I curl up as best I can and try to detach my mind from my body. _

_But I can still hear their laughter and I can feel her rough hands grazing my delicate skin. _

_I scrunch my eyes tightly closed, willing the floor to swallow me whole. I don't know what I've done to deserve this life. _

_I gradually become aware of light creeping back into my view and the echoing sounds deplete until there is silence. _

_She has released me at last. I remain curled in a tight ball, my head buried in my arms. _

_I feel cold. _

_Suddenly another pair of hands appears on my body, but this time the touch is gentle and soothing. A weight appears on my side and tender fingers submerge themselves in my hair. And the only sound I hear now is the comforting words she is whispering to me. _

I gasp, sitting up so suddenly that stars flash before my eyes.

"It's okay." I hear her telling my through the fog in my mind. "You're okay now."

I turn, blinking away my tears. It's dark and Catherine is kneeling beside my bed, one hand supporting my back while the other rests on my leg.

She smiles knowingly, concern and sadness filling her eyes.

X x x

**Cath's POV**

It doesn't take a genius to guess what her nightmare is about this time, as she scratches frantically at her own face in an attempt to fight off her invisible attacker.

The obstinate part of me wants to say 'I told you so', for this is exactly the reason I cannot leave her alone in here. But I know that this is probably not what she needs to hear right now, so instead I slide under the covers with her and pull her against me.

"You're going to be okay, babe." I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Cat." She mumbles sleepily, already being reclaimed by morpheus.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry." She sniffles. "I really am grateful for what you did."

"I know." I smile. "I love you."

"I know." She echoes quietly. "I love you, too."

It strikes me that this is probably the first time she has ever said these words to anyone. I can't help but wonder whether she has been contemplating how to say it since I first uttered the words to her this morning. I tug her closer, nestling against her warm body.

"But you're still an idiot."

Her stern addition makes me chuckle softly and I drop an affectionate kiss into her hair.

"Duly noted." I hum. "Now, go back to sleep."

She's probably right.

What I did was by far the stupidest thing I've ever done and if the other inmates realise it was me then they could easily kill me for stealing an afternoon of their already-limited freedom. I am, after all, hugely outnumbered.

But at the time I didn't think I had any other option; and if I'm honest, I still believe that now.

X x x

_My heart is pounding in my chest; I'm so sure I'm going to get caught. _

_I edge my way through the gate, checking all around to make sure I am definitely alone before creeping across the yard. _

_I may have been considered something of a delinquent at school, but I have always been sharp and it hadn't taken me long in here to work out where they keep the keys to the minibus. _

_Only certain inmates are supposed to have access to the garage, specifically the ones enlisted to clean the bus. But as it happens one of these girls owed me a long-forgotten favour and it hadn't taken much persuasion to get inside. I didn't tell her why I wanted access and she hadn't asked. That's what I like about her. _

_From there, it was a piece of cake to get the keys and climb into the bus. _

_The engine takes a minute to tick over before firing up with an overworked growl. _

_I release the handbrake and slam it into reverse, swallowing hard as it starts to roll slowly backwards. _

_My stomach knots and I begin to get the sinking feeling that this was a bad idea, but it's too late to go back now. _

_I have barely moved six feet backwards before the yard is filled with guards. My heart rate increases, my blood boiling in my veins as the enormity of what I'm about to do hits me. _

_One of them locks eyes with me and I instantly recognise him as the one who recently helped me to get Sara's notebook. He looks shocked, possibly even disappointed, as he gestures for me to stop. _

_I could stop. I could get out now and hope that they are lenient on me – we could call it a momentary lapse in judgement.  
But then I remember that that's not what I want. I want to be punished. I need it to be enough to get my parole revoked, but not too much to get my sentence increased. _

_Taking a deep breath, and sending what I hope is an apologetic look to the kind-hearted guard, I slam my foot on the gas and drive the bus back into the garage wall. _

_I jolt in my seat, bracing myself against the dashboard as a loud crunch ricochets through the vehicle. Slightly dazed, I clamber down the steps and stumble along the edge of the bus. There doesn't appear to be too much damage, although there is an impressive dent in the garage wall. _

_Several pairs of rough hands grab me, and my wrists – painful from the force of the crash – are forced behind my back into handcuffs. _

_I wince, barely hearing a word of what is being shouted at me as I am frogmarched through the yard towards the forbidding building. _

_I cast a glance back over my shoulder. From here, I can see more damage to both the bus and the wall. It looks expensive. _

_Certainly enough to justify securing my future in this hell for the forseeable future. _

X x x

I release a sigh, tipping my head back into the pillow. I still can't believe that I actually went through with it. I nearly bottled it so many times, but each time I remembered Harper's words and my determination increased tenfold.

"What are you thinking?" A curious voice inquires softly. I look down, quirking an eyebrow at her. I didn't even realise that she was awake.

"I'm trying to work out what it is about you that makes me do stupid things." I reply honestly, repositioning her in the crook of my elbow so I can stroke her hair.

She smiles, burying her face against my shoulder.

"I'm sorry." She mumbles unapologetically.

"No you're not." I breathe, sliding a hand beneath her shirt to caress her back. There's no accusation in my voice, why should there be? It's not her fault that she drives me to insanity. Although I'm sure a small part of her enjoys watching me get so worked up. She seems to take great pleasure in frustrating me, only to dissipate my pent-up anger with a single smile.

I keep telling myself that as soon as I work out how she got under my skin without me noticing, I'll work out a way to deal with it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you all so much for your patience, I have been snowed under with work this week. This chapter isn't quite as long as some of the others, but the next two are already in the making so should be up fairly soon.  
**

**Hope you're all still enjoying it, thanks for sticking with it!  
**

**x x x x  
**

**Cath's POV**

I woke up with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and it hasn't budged all day.

I've tried to tell myself it's because of something I ate, or a winter bug that's going round. But the real reason is obvious.

Today is the day of Sara's first parole hearing.

If she's lucky she might be out of here in time for Christmas day.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I don't know whether I should be happy or sad right now.

On the one hand, I know there is a very real chance that I will be out of here by the end of the day.

At the same time, it's an absolute certainty that Catherine will still be here tonight.

She hasn't said much to me this morning, not that I can blame her.

A part of me wants to do the same thing she did for me, but after her stunt they have been watching us like hawks. And even if I could pull something off and prolong my stay here, what would happen then? We'd be stuck in an endless battle of one-upmanship to try and stay inside.

Instead, I have come to the conclusion that whatever happens today I'm not going to let everything we have built up between us go to waste. I can visit her every week. I'll send her things – non-contraband, obviously. And when she's released, I'll be waiting outside for her. I'll help her to survive out there, the way she helped me survive in here.

This may all be redundant of course, as I may not even get out today.

I feel sick as I gather my things together and edge to the door.

"Cath?" I call tentatively. "I'm ready to go."

"Okay." She hums, keeping her back to me. I wait a moment longer, hoping that she might say something else. When she still doesn't respond, I release a sad sigh and turn to leave.

"Sara?"

I turn, surprised to find that she has moved and is standing directly behind me. She looks adorably nervous as she bites her lower lip and toys with the hem of her shirt. After a long few seconds, she closes the gap between us to wrap me in a tight hug.

"Good luck honey." She whispers in my ear. "Make me proud, girl."

X x x

**Cath's POV**

My stomach is in knots as I wait for news.

I truly hope she gets out, because then she can put this whole unfortunate turn in life behind her and make something of herself. She can go to college, get a degree. She'll get a good job, meet a man, have a family.

And one day, all of this will just be a bad dream to her.

I want all of this for her, I truly do. But a selfish little part of me wants to keep her to myself for a little while longer.

And the events of last night didn't help silence that voice.

X x x

_I feel my mattress dip slightly as she lands on the edge of my bed and crawls up to lay beside me. _

"_Say something." She whispers, her voice inches from my ear. _

"_Like what?" I reply, my tone colder than I intend it to be. _

"_Anything." She shuffles staring up at me with big bright eyes. "What are you thinking?"_

"_Oh honey." I chuckle humourlessly. "You don't want to know the answer to that."_

_Even in the darkness I can sense her frowning, but she lets it drop. _

_Instead, I feel a warm hand slide beneath my shirt, curiously searching my body as if it were the first time she'd ever touched me. _

"_I'm sorry." She murmurs, her lips brushing my skin. _

"_Not your fault." I breathe, turning away from her. _

_She's confused and hurting and I want to comfort her, but I can't. Because as much as it pains my pride to admit it, it's hurting me too. I don't want her to go. _

_But it's _not_ her fault. _

_With a despondent sigh I roll back over so I am facing her. I can see the confusion on her face and it breaks my heart to know that I've put it there. _

"_I'm sorry sweetheart." I whisper, reaching up to stroke her hair. "It's just, this whole thing kind of …"_

"_Sucks." She surmises for me miserably. Despite the situation, I emit a soft laugh. _

"_Yeah." I sigh. Her hands have appeared on my back, attempting to pull my closer. I allow her to, sliding my own hands around her neck and pulling her close enough to press my lips to hers. _

_I can taste the salt of her silent tears and suddenly I'm flashed back to her first night here. She was crying then too, although at the time I don't think either of us noticed. My, how far we have come since then. _

_We nestle together, our hands starting to roam the familiar paths; memorising every curve and contour of each other, so that in the lonely nights to follow we can close our eyes and draw this moment again over and over in our minds. _

X x x

It was different to all the other times. It was passionate, angry, desperate. It was more than just sex, it was like we were both trying to say the things we were too scared to say out loud; not 'I'll miss you' or even 'I love you'.

It was goodbye.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

I think my parole hearing was possibly more daunting then my sentencing was.

I found myself shaking in front of a panel of prison officers, supposedly to plead my case.

My sterling prison record was read out and I felt my heart clench as they stated that I had no disciplinary action taken against me. Next time Catherine found herself in this room, if ever, she wouldn't be able to say the same thing.

After the procedural rigmarole was done with, there were a few moments of hushed whispering from the panel while I stared uncomfortably around the room. Their decision was handed down, a sheet of paper was stamped and I was effectively dismissed.

It was all sort of anticlimactic really.

Now I find myself sitting alone outside the room, staring into space.

I'm free. I turn the words over in my mouth. They don't sound nearly as liberating as I had hoped.

I had assumed that in this moment I would feel like the luckiest person alive. I am free to walk out of this hell, this prison, and take control of my life again. I can plan a future, move forwards.

But right now, sitting alone in this dank hallway, all I can think about is what I am leaving behind.


	21. Chapter 21

**Nearly at the end now, maybe three more chapters to go  
**

**x x x x  
**

**Cath's POV**

I awake to a bitterly cold cell and a heartbreaking emptiness settles in the pit of my stomach.

That's when it truly hits me. Sara's gone.

Curling back up, I bury my face in my pillow; breathing in her scent. I knew that it wouldn't be long before they came to strip her bed of the sheets, so I swapped them over last night. This way, at least, I can close my eyes and pretend that I'm still wrapped in her arms.

It's only a temporary solution, of course. Come laundry day I'm not sure what I'll do. Maybe by then I'll have found a way to come to terms with the loss of my cellmate.

Perhaps if our parting hadn't been quite so awkward, it would be an easier pill to swallow.

Watched on by an impatient guard and several curious inmates, we daren't even share a chaste kiss. Instead, she had buried her gaze in the ground and mumbled a few words of comfort before slipping into the hall. I had tried to keep a brave face for her, assuring her that I was going to be fine in here. I made her promise to take care of herself, and to make peace with her demons before they destroyed her.

But as soon as she disappeared, the sound of my cell doors slamming closed signalling the finality of it all, I sank to the floor and cried until there was nothing left of me but bittersweet tears.

X x x

Today marks three days since Sara left.

It is also Christmas day.

The date hadn't even crossed my mind until I stepped into the crowded dining hall amid the smell of turkey and potatoes. I have a horrible suspicion that the turkey is leftover from thanksgiving, but it still beats the usual slop we get in here.

There is a strange energy in the air today. A festive buzz, I suppose you could call it. I'm not sure I understand it myself; it's not like we have much to celebrate in here.

I sit alone, more comfortable in my own thoughts than socialising with the rest of the rabble. I feel like I did when I first arrived; out of place and disorientated. Sara had only been with me for a couple of months, but now she's gone it feels like my life has been turned upside down all over again.

I find myself drawn back to the time Sara asked me about what happens in prison at this time of year. Despite her unsually mature mindset, there was a child-like innocence about her when she spoke of Christmas. I could tell that behind those haunted hazel eyes she was dreaming of tinsel and fairy lights. The sort of Christmas you only see in fairytales.

In truth, those fantasy images were probably the closest she had ever come to knowing a proper Christmas.

I glance around at the meagre attempts from the guards to cheer the place up. Tinsel and lights are off limits due to the obvious risks involved in a place like this. We are lucky to get shoelaces. But they had stuck a few festive pictures up on the walls and a small wiry tree had materialised in the corner, with a few baubles hanging precariously off the pathetic branches.

The food is actually not that bad, but I still can't stomach much of it.

Scraping my leftovers into the trashcan, I slip back up the stairs before the rest of the inmates have even hit the liquified goo passing itself off as cranberry sauce.

The hallway is quiet, empty. With the knowledge that all that's waiting for me in my cell is deathly silence, I decide to go for a walk and stretch my legs.

I wander the corridor idly, casting lazy glances into each deserted cell as I go. Like college dormitories, each one the same. I wonder whether Sara will make it to Harvard. What would she study? What will she make of herself one day?

I sigh, rolling my stiff neck to the side as I throw a casual glance into the next cell. To my surprise, someone looks back at me.

"Hi Goldi." Harper smirks. "You leave the party early?"

I freeze, swallowing hard. Apparently I'm not the only one who is not in the holiday mood.

"I guess it's no fun without your date, huh?" She continues, emerging from the cage and backing me against the far wall. When she reaches out to grab me I attempt to duck out of her reach, but all I achieve is pulling us both into the cell behind me.

I don't know whose it is, but it doesn't really matter. Everyone else is still downstairs. By the time they slope back up here, full of cheap meat and fake stuffing, it'll all be over and they'll be none the wiser.

Right now, it's just her and me.

X x x

I wince against the pain, pressing the cold cloth tentatively to my face.

Sara would usually do this for me. She would tip my head back, one hand gently supporting the back of my neck while she staunched the flow of blood.

Instead, I am in an ungraceful heap on the floor, leaning against the cold stone wall with blood dripping down my front as I bounce between vomiting and intense nosebleeds.

I guess this is my life from now on. Back to how things were when I first arrived. I'm alone, free to be used as Harper's personal sex slave and punching bag whenever the mood strikes her.

I can only hope that Sara's found her way home. That she's somewhere safe, with people who care for her. Meanwhile, I am still here, trapped inside these four walls on what should be the happiest day of the year.

A part of me is angry at her for leaving me to rot in this place, though I know logically that the blame doesn't lie with her.

If I wasn't so damn weak to fall for every person who showed me a little affection, I could be out of here by now as well. Who knows, perhaps the two of us would be sharing a bottle of wine over a warm fire.

Who am I kidding? If not for this hellhole, Sara Sidle and I would never have crossed paths.

I cough, spluttering up blood from the back of my throat. I don't know where it's coming from, but right now I'm not sure I care. I could die in this cell and no one would give a damn anyway.

Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.


	22. Chapter 22

**I know this isn't my best work but it's the middle of the night so it's as good as it's getting for now. Hope you enjoy it anyway, and thank you for being so patient - my workload has gone crazy this week!**

**I'm not sure whether there's going to be one or two more chapters to this story, will depend how it pans out when I start writing the next chapter**

**x x x x**

_In the back of my mind I knew that this day would come, but I had tried not to give it too much thought._

_To be honest, he was the last person on my mind._

_At first it's just a smile across the dining hall. Then he comes to my cell._

_Just a casual visit, he claims, to see how I'm getting on without Sara. I thought it was sweet, at first._

_But it's when I am cleaning the bus – my punishment for destroying the garage wall – that he finally corners me alone._

_I feel his breath on the back of my neck and his hands appear on my waist._

_"About that favour you owe me…" he hisses in my ear. His breath smells of stale smoke and his hands are coarse where they rest on the edge of my stomach. _

_My body stiffens. It is well known that a small minority of the guards are less-than-honourable towards female inmates, but this is my first personal experience of it._

_"Not now." I manage to stutter, twisting the filthy rag I am still holding through my hands nervously._

_"I don't recall setting a time limit on your repayment when you crashed that bus into a wall and I saved your ass from seclusion." He mutters, gripping me tighter. "Or when I did a favour for your little girlfriend – pity _she's_ not here to repay me for that, too."_

_He has a point. Not about Sara; I would never have let that happen. But the only reason I got to stay in that cell _with_ Sara was because of his high standing with the prison officers. Anyone else would have ended up in isolation for a stunt like that, and that was a risk I hadn't considered until it was too late to go back._

_He did save my ass. And I did promise him anything in return._

X x x

My stomach turns at the memory. I can still practically feel the handrail digging into my back and the tacky floor of the bus beneath my feet.

Shaking the thought away, I close my eyes and try to picture Sara's face; but like I always find, it has already faded from my memory. I focus on her eyes, her beautiful hazel eyes. Slowly, the rest of her features swim into my view.

I miss her like crazy. I knew it would be hard once she left, but I never imagined that I could feel like this about her. At first it scared me, the rush of unexpected grief; but now all I want is to hold her again.

Just one more time. To hold her and tell her that I love her.

X x x

"Flynn."

I look up weakly at the gruff voice, dropping my hand from the bruise fading around my eye. My long-lasting souvenir from Harper's 'Christmas Present' to me.

"Visitor." The guard growls, spinning on his heels and disappearing back down the hall.

I stare blankly at the spot where he had been stood, before I click on and realise that he is expecting me to follow him.

"Who is it?" I ask, jogging to catch him up. He shrugs, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. I roll my eyes at his unhelpful ineloquence.

The whole time I have been here, I've never once had a visitor.

My immediate assumption – hope, even – is that it must be Sara, but I quickly disregard the thought. She wouldn't come back here so soon after her release, if ever.  
After all, what's left for her in here?

But then who else could it be?

Eddie? Surely not.

My mother? Not a chance in hell.

X x x

Her face lights up when she sees me and she's on her feet in a heartbeat, although the smile quickly dissipates as she spots the bruises marring my face. In my curiosity, I had completely forgotten about them and I reach up self-consciously to touch them. She obviously sees me visibly wince, because she balls her hands into fists at her side. Taking a deep breath, I walk slowly towards her.

"What happened?" She asks instantly, concern flooding her pretty features as she instinctively reaches out towards me. Despite my primal urges craving her touch, I pull away from her, sending pointed glances at the nearby guards. She follows my line of sight and drops her hand reluctantly to her side.

"It's nothing." I clear my throat as we both take a seat at the worn, overused table. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." She sounds hurt at my emotionless tone.

I don't mean to sound harsh towards her, but she's ruining my plan. Regardless of my desperation to see her, I had made a promise to myself that I wasn't going to let it break me. Having her within reach, but still being unable to touch her makes it all the harder for me to keep that promise.

But I can't let myself crack in front of her now. If I do, she'll never leave.

"You shouldn't have."I insist, keeping my gaze low. "I told you not to come back here."

"I wanted to see you." I can sense the sadness in her voice and it cuts through me like a knife. "Cat, did Harper do that to you?"

I don't know why she's asking, we both know the answer.

"It's nothing." I sniff back the tears threatening to fall.

She reaches across the table, ensuring not to actually touch me.

"Catherine, I can help you." She says earnerstly. "I can talk to the officers, explain the situation to them..."

"No." I lift my head, my eyes wide. "Don't say a word."

She is visibly taken aback by my tone and retracts her hand.

"Cat, please." She begs. Looking at her now, with her naive expression and puppy dog eyes, I could almost believe that she had never even been on the inside. She looks so innocent and child-like. Just like she had when she was first thrown into my life.

"Sara, you have to go." I hiss. "Whatever happened between us is over."

I can feel the guilt eating me up inside at hurting her like this, but I don't see any other way out. Self-preservation has always been a strong suit of mine and nothing sparks it quite like someone getting too close for comfort.  
Coincidently, Sara is the only person I have really felt _comfortable_ with.

I never was a big fan of irony.

When she continues to scan my face with her confused orbs I lean across the table, so that only she can hear what I have to say. Even with the obstacle between us, I can feel her body stiffen at my whispered confession.

I push my chair back to stand up and she mimics my actions.

"Cat, wait…"

"Go home Sara." I snap, whirling on her. "Don't come back here again."

The guard, who has been watching our every interaction with thinly veiled intrique, lets me back into the corridor and slams the door behind me; sealing the end of the conversation.

As I walk away, my legs shaking, tears start to build in my eyes. I fight the urge to turn around, because I know that if I have to look into those devestated, hazel eyes one more time my heart might just break.

X x x

The cell feels so empty when I get back, as if the last little bit of her presence has left it. I drop onto her bed, a muffled sob escaping my lips.

What have I done?

No, I did the right thing. This way Sara can move on with her life and forget all about me.

Is that what I really want?

I lay back, wrapping my arms protectively around my stomach, staring up at the bottom of my own mattress.

Staring back at me is a folded piece of paper.

Reaching up with a puzzled frown, I extract it from the slats on the base of the bed and unfold it carefully.

It's a page torn from Sara's notebook.

Across the page is my name in neat cursive script, decorated by a border of flowers. On one side of the page is a long-stemmed rose.

It looks like an elaborate tattoo design.

I smile, gently stroking the picture with the pad of my thumb. A lone tear falls on the page; I hadn't even realised I was crying. I quickly attempt to dab it away before it smudges the ink.

I want her so much. I miss her.

And thanks to my actions today, I will probably never see her again.

My stomach churns once more, pain cutting through it like a knife. I feel physically sick to the core.

And no matter how much I lie to myself, I know it's more than just guilt this time.


	23. Chapter 23

**One more chapter to go!**

**Thank you to everyone who's read/reviewed/followed/favourited! You guys rock and I'm glad you've been enjoying it because it's been a complete experiment. **

**I'll try to get the final chapter up tomorrow!**

**x x x x**

I stumble blindly to the sink, clutching my stomach, my eyes still half-closed with sleep. I heave, evicting the little amount of food I managed to eat last night.

I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. My body is turning against me, the guards are watching me like a hawk and I can't set foot out of my cell without coming face to face with Harper's knowing smirk.

I take a few deep breaths, steadying myself against the basin. My own reflection stares back at me from the mirror, but I don't recognise it anymore. The woman who came in here was lost maybe; but she was also confident, cocky, beautiful even. The face staring back at me is worn, tired. Fearful.

I sink onto the bottom bunk and close my eyes against the pounding in my head, trying to picture Sara's face. It's been over a month since she came to visit me and I can still see the picture of sadness in her eyes as I left her cold.  
I often find my thoughts wandering back to her these days. Where could she be now? Did she ever make it to her family at Christmas?

The sound of the metal gate grinding open at the end of the corridor tears me from my thoughts and the guards' heavy footsteps draw closer. It doesn't feel early enough for them to let us out, but then time is irrelative in here. It could be the middle of the night, it could be lunch-time … it doesn't really make a difference to us.

However, apparently my first instinct was correct as they don't begin to open the cells. Instead, they walk straight down the concrete hall and come to a stop outside my cell.

"Flynn." One of them barks, unlocking the grate and sliding it open. "Get your stuff."

I push myself up on shaky legs, using the bedpost to support myself.

"What?" I ask with a quivering voice, feeling another wave of nausea wash over me at the movements. Immediately, my first thought is that they must know and are moving me to another area of the prison.

Do they have a special place where they hide the knocked-up inmates?

"You're up for parole in an hour."

I must have misheard. My ears are ringing; my whole body shaking now. I'm sure one of them is speaking again, but I can't hear them anymore.

The last thing I see is the floor as it swims closer and closer until everything is black.

X x x

A gruff-looking woman in a grubby white pinafore is scowling down at me when I awake.

I am no longer in my cell. In fact, it doesn't even seem I'm in the prison at all. I find myself surrounded by empty beds identical to the one I am inelegantly sprawled across.

"Seven weeks." She announces harshly, quirking a disapproving eyebrow at me.

"Lucky she's not our problem anymore." I hear somebody mutter nearby, but it's too much effort to lift my head and seek out the source of the voice.

"What happened?" I manage to ask hoarsely.

"You collapsed." The nurse – or at least, I assume that's what she is – barks bluntly. "Pregnancy does that to you."

It's clear from her tone that she's not impressed but I don't have it in me to defend myself against her assumptions.

A tall, greying man in a suit brushes past her and into my line of sight.

"Catherine," he begins, clearing his throat. It strikes me that this is the first time I have been called my Christian name by anyone in this prison since the day I arrived. "Take a few minutes, get yourself together and we'll have your things brought to the office for you to collect on your way out."

I blink at him dumbly, certain that I must have missed something. The sensible thing to do right now would probably be to smile and nod, and leave this place as fast as my trembling legs will carry me; but if I was sensible I never would have ended up in here. Besides, you know what they say about curiosity.

"What's going on?" I inquire weakly. "I wasn't up for parole."

He shifts his weight and an awkward look passes around the group of gathered staff.

"We've received some information regarding your disciplinary action." He clears his throat again, adjusting his tie as if it was choking him. "We understand that your actions were in order to protect another inmate from prolonged abuse. Under the circumstances, we felt it is only fair to repeal the disciplinary action."

"You know?" I repeat, stunned.

"We are aware of an ongoing situation involving one inmate in particular and this will be investigated closely within the prison." He continues his well-rehearsed spiel, taking a tentative seat on the edge of my bed. "I'm sure you understand that this is a very unusual situation and should be dealt with internally."

I nod slowly, catching on. In other words, they're letting me go on the promise that I keep my mouth shut about what happened in here.

"I understand." I mumble, although the agreement makes my blood run cold. After all, why should I protect them after the hell they've put me through? He smiles tightly, standing up and dusting his suit off. Something tells me that this man is not accustomed to actually dealing with the customers of this place. If that's the case, they really must be treating this seriously.

"Good." He nods abruptly, clearly eager to get back to the sanctity of his office. "Well, good luck." Unsure of proper procedure here, I accept the hand he sticks out towards me before spinning on his pristine leather heels and stalking to the door.

"Um … what …" I begin hurriedly before he can leave, jolting myself upright so fast that my stomach twinges. He turns, cocking an impatient eyebrow. "What's going to happen to Har … to the other inmate?"

He clears his throat, standing up a little straighter.

"The inmate in question has already been removed to the isolation unit until a place becomes available on a more secure ward."

My heart settles a little in my chest at the thought that her reigns are going to be tightened from now on.

And who knows, maybe she'll get a shock when she gets locked down with the really tough inmates. I'd stake my life that she'll be no match for the murderesses and truly violent offenders harboured on the floor above ours.

She'll just be another piece of meat to them.

X x x

On my way through the reception area, a single lonely bag of meagre possessions clutched in my hands, I am reminded of the day I arrived here.

I had been struggling with withdrawal at the time so the memory is a little fuzzy, but I distinctly remember the dying plant which remains to this day sat on the desk.

I must admit, as far as appearances go I'm hardly one to judge at the minute.

I sign the papers and shove them back across the desk, not even bothering to check that all my belongings are present. The only thing I want to keep is still protectively stashed in my back pocket.

Pushing myself away from the desk, I catch sight of the guard who assaulted me in the bus. After everything that's happened between us, I still don't even know his name.

He can barely bring himself to look at me but I stare at him for as long as possible, trying to memorise his features. One day, they could be the features of my baby. Finally, I snap myself out of it and stride past him to the door. I almost think I hear him call my name; but I don't turn around as I swing the heavy metal door open, casting a beam of bright sunlight into the small office, and walk out of the prison.


	24. Chapter 24

**Well this is it! Hope you've all enjoyed it, thank you for the kind reviews and to everyone who read. **  
**I have a lot of uni work on at the moment, but I am working on the next story so it should be up before Christmas :)**

**I'll leave it to your imaginations to decide how this story will end for them :)**

**x x x x**

I step out, feeling the chill of the early February air seep into my skin. The metallic crashing of the gates closing makes me jump and I shiver involuntarily at the sound.

I thought I would feel liberated once I left, but the reality is that to an ex-con the free world is just another cage.

The prison is in a pretty remote place and as I stand out here looking lost, it dawns on me that I have no idea where I am. I am all alone, with no money and nowhere in the world to go.

My stomach turns and I place a hand over it, swallowing hard. Alright, I'm not quite alone.

As scared tears begin to fill my eyes, I hear a distinctly familiar voice call my name.

I turn, a hopeful smile dancing on my lips as I squint against the high noon sun.

Sara is leaning against a cab several feet away, a bright grin on her face.

For a whole minute I just stare at her.

"Well, don't I get a hug?" She asks coyly, strolling towards me. All thoughts of nausea forgotten, I run as fast as my legs will allow and throw my arms around her neck. She feels so good in my embrace. She smells like cherry blossom and her hands feel so soft as she slides them under my shirt and dances her fingertips across the small of my back.

Before I even know what I'm doing, I pull back just far enough to press a firm kiss to her lips.

She seems slightly shocked by it, but smiles brightly as we finally pull apart.

"What are you doing here?" I manage to ask at last. "How did you know I was coming out?"

Even as the words are forming in my mouth, I realise who is behind this whole thing. I blink, wide-eyed, as she smirks knowingly at me.

"Well, I couldn't just leave you in there to rot now, could I?" She asks rhetorically, reaching over to extract the bag from my hand.

Still staring at her in dumb shock, I allow her to guide me into the back of the waiting cab. I can't help wondering how long she's had the meter running while anticipating my imminent release.

Inside, she stares at me for a long moment before I realise that she's still waiting for something now.

"It's your first day on the outside, Catherine." She points out softly, taking my hand in her own. "Where do you want to go?"

X x x

It's been so long since I was free, I can barely remember the names of any of my old hangouts, so I pick a little café that Eddie and I used to frequent.

We have already ordered when it hits me that I don't have any money; but while I am bashfully searching for a way to apologise, Sara has already paid.

I look at her suspiciously, eyeing the cash peeking out of her purse.

"What have you been doing with yourself these last few weeks?" I ask as casually as I can.

She laughs light-heartedly, not buying my act for a second.

"Not that, if that's what you're worried about." She assures me and I must admit my heart settles a little to know that she isn't still working the streets. "I got a job – a real job, as a waitress." She smiles. "It's at Chucky Cheese – hardly exciting I know, but it pays the bills. Barely."

I hum in agreement, reaching across the table to stroke the back of her hand where it rests around her coffee cup.

"I'm proud of you." I say genuinely. "I know it can't have been easy."

She offers a shy shrug, tracing a fingertip around the rim of her mug. I stare at her hands, the memories of how they felt on my body flooding back to mind and making my skin flush. They're ink-stained, as always.

Suddenly remembering something, I fumble in my back pocket for the piece of paper I stashed away earlier. She frowns at my actions until recognition crosses her features and she smiles at the familiar doodling.

"You found it." She beams happily.

"Yeah, well hidden." I chuckle softly, tracing the image delicately. I have spent that many countless hours caressing it, the black ink has faded to a dull grey. "How did you do it?"

She cocks her head at my question, confusion written across her face.

"Get me out." I elaborate, meeting her gaze. "It must have taken some work."

"Well, yeah." She agrees, straightening up. "After what you told me…" she gestures weakly to my stomach and I instinctively cover it with my hand. "I couldn't let you stay in there any longer."

"But how?" I press, leaning closer. "I know how that place works; they don't care what goes on in the cells as long as _they_ don't come under fire."

"No," she smiles coyly. "But I met the media would be real curious to know how an inmate got pregnant after being incarcerated for a year."

My jaw drops open and I stutter at her for a minute while I search for a suitable response.

"You didn't?" I challenge nervously. To my surprise, she laughs and reaches across the table to grip my hand tightly.

"Of course I didn't. I wouldn't do that to you." She assures me. "It wasn't easy getting their attention at first, but I enlisted some help. I met a journalism student at college and they made a few well-informed empty threats. That was pretty effective."

I narrow my eyes, scrutinising her closely. I can barely even recognise the scared, timid little girl that was thrown into my cell all those months ago anymore. Sitting before me now is a happy, bright young woman. She has a job, a flat ... a life.

X x x

**Sara's POV**

Chuckling softly at the memory of my friend's eagerness to help, I release her hand and go to take a mouthful of my coffee, but pause when she continues to stare at me with a curious look.

"College?" She repeats, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah," I clear my throat, realising that I hadn't mentioned that yet. "It's just an entry course – physics and applied science. But I've applied for Harvard." I smile.

"That's great." She beams, leaning around the table to wrap me in a hug. I inhale deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair.

I have missed her so much, I can barely put it into words. I don't ever want to let go of her; but she winces and pulls back, wrapping an arm around her stomach.

"You okay?" I ask, reaching out to steady her.

"Yeah." She gasps, turning slightly green. "I just … could we get some fresh air?"

"Yeah, of course." I'm out of my seat in a heartbeat, one arm looped around her back as I guide her to the door. I'm not familiar with the afflictions of pregnancy but whatever's the matter I'm not letting go of her, just in case.

We walk in silence for a few minutes, until her breathing returns to normal and a more natural colour returns to her cheeks.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" I ask at last. It's not a conversation I've been looking forward to, but ever since she whispered it to me over the battered prison table I knew we were going to have to face it sooner or later.

"I don't know. Get rid of it I guess." She breathes, her hands falling protectively over her stomach.

"You don't have to you know." I say softly, reaching out tentatively to graze the side of her slim stomach.

"How am I supposed to raise a child?" She asks helplessly, tears beginning to form in her eyes. I imagine this is a question she has been asking herself for several weeks.

I still our movements, turning her body to face me and placing both hands on her waist.

"With me."

X x x

**Cath's POV**

I don't know how far we walked before we ended up in the park. We must have been laid here for hours just staring at the sky, my head tucked beneath her chin and her arms around my middle, but I don't have it in me to move.

I don't know what's going to happen now, or how we're going to cope, but right now this moment is so perfect I don't want it to end.

"I bet it'll be a girl." Sara declares at last.

I look up, searching her face.

"I'd like a girl." I smile, rolling over until I am practically lying on top of her. "Do you really think we can do this?"

She pretends to think about it for a minute before smiling.

"Yeah." She reaches up, running a hand through my hair. "We'll find a way."

I grin, kissing her lips tenderly.

"It's going to be hard." I point out, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Not just the baby, but dealing with the rest of the world too."

"Harder than prison?" She counters playfully, rolling me back over and pushing herself to her feet. She brushes the dust and grass off her skin-tight jeans and reaches down to pull me up as well.

I hadn't realised how late it had gotten; the sky is starting to change colour.

"Come on," she breathes, wrapping her thick winter coat around my shoulders. "I'm taking you home. Then we can work out what to do about ... well, everything."

She takes my hand and starts to walk away, but I tug her back. She turns to me curiously, cocking an eyebrow at my lack of forward movement.

"I've been in a stone cage for twelve months." I point out with an impish grin. "I don't want to go inside just yet."

"Okay." She frowns. "So, where do you want to go?"

I smile, moving until I'm so close I could kiss her.

"The rest of the world can wait until tomorrow." I whisper against her lips. "Tonight, I want to see the sunset."

**_~Fin~_**


End file.
